An Unspeakable Desire
by SarahBeFree
Summary: Kurt and Cooper are 21-year-old students living together in NYC. Kurt 's known the Andersons for years, but has never given much thought to Cooper's younger brother, Blaine, until Kurt and Cooper fly home to visit during a break, and Kurt finds himself undeniably attracted to the 16-year-old. But what will happen when Cooper flies Blaine to NYC to visit for an entire month?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: ****So, er, here's a new story I guess :)  
I don't want to say too much but I will say there is an age difference. It's nothing extreme, but I'd rather say it now than potentially be called out on not having said it later.  
Other than that all I'll say is that it's completely AU, and the back story, so to speak, is filled in throughout the first few chapters. And I know this first chapter's kind of short, but stick with me.  
So I guess all there is to say is enjoy :)**

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Has there ever been a moment in your life when you realise nothing is how you've always believed it to be? Nothing is how you've been told, how you've assumed, how you've learnt.

The world's different. It's complicated in ways you've never even thought about.

It's a mess; it's cluttered and cramped. An amalgamation of pain and pleasure, certainty and uncertainty, what you know and don't know, everything fading into a grey spectrum between everything and nothing.

People's lives weave together everyday. Sometimes they touch; paths cross for the briefest moment before veering off perpendicular to each other, never to cross again. A stab of pain and loss and regret but then it's gone with the wind and the world continues to turn.

Other times lives race along next to each other, parallel; spending an eternity never touching but always there, always present, always just out of reach. This aches, but it lessens, over time. That feeling dissolves and evaporates until just the vapours remain and you get on with you life.

Then at times two lives knot and tangle and intertwine together, binding and meshing until the first point of contact is lost among a million more touches, a million more smiles and tears and loves. These are the hardest ones to let go of, because when two lives crash together like that, when they mould and shape to fit another life beside their own, when they fall in love, all that's left when those two lives get torn apart are rips and frays and breaks. A human sized hole in your chest which that person used to fill and an emptiness that could rival a cathedral.

That's when you realise the world is nothing like you believed; it hurts. And there's no amount of apologies or affirmations or adorations which will heal you, no hands which can sufficiently tie together the broken strings of your life. It's just you, with a hole in your heart, lost in the twisted, decrepit, fucked up world you've got to live in.

/

"Kurt!"

Kurt takes a deep breath, in through the nose, out through the mouth, before turning at the sound of his name being called, loud as a foghorn from the other side of the apartment. "What?" he calls back, equally loud.

"You got a second?" his flatmate calls, causing Kurt to sigh dramatically, dropping the pencil in his hand. He pushes back his chair which scrapes against the wooden floor, and stands, irritably cracking his knuckles as he leaves his calm, quiet, organised bedroom and heads into the living room and kitchen, which is considerably less calm, quiet and organised.

There's music playing loud through a badly tuned radio, top 40's tracks mingling with a woman on the TV, whisk in hand as she beats eggs. Books are piled high on the coffee table, small novels and thick, hard backed references books, papers sticking out of each one at various points. Clothes are also slung around the room, a jacket over the back of the couch, balled up socks on the kitchen counter, a pair of jeans by the front door. Kurt's eyes roam over the room, taking in the destruction which after three years he's finally used to, or more correctly, he's finally fed up of arguing about. His eyes eventually settle in the kitchen where his best friend is stood, yellow apron loose around his neck, tucked a little into his jeans, rolling pin in hand.

"_What_ are you _doing_?" Kurt asks in disbelief, eyes taking in the lump of unnameable substance which Cooper's flattening against the counter, flour up his arms and smudges on his neck, an egg smashed on the floor and chocolate melting in a pile where the sun is streaming onto it. Cooper's head jerks up and he grins impossibly wide, rubbing his forearm over his head, leaving a streak of flour in his dark hair.

"I'm making cookies for Lex," he says proudly as he dusts off his hands and continues to smile at Kurt, nodding towards the TV where the woman is quite clearly making a soufflé. "What?" he asks, smile dropping as Kurt's face becomes incredulous and he laughs emptily, raising a disdainful eyebrow.

"First of all, she's not making cookies," Kurt chastises with a point to the TV, picking up the nearby remote and muting it, biting the inside of his cheek to stop his grin.

Cooper frowns before speaking, "I know that! I just thought if I left it on long enough some cookie recipes would come on," he pouts a little, blue eyes bright as Kurt walks towards him.

"What, and you were just seeing how much mess you could make in the meantime?" Kurt complains, taking the rolling pin from his hand and putting it out of arms reach, not trusting him with it. "And seriously Cooper," he groans, washing his hands quickly, "that's supposed to be cookie dough?" Kurt asks, pointing at the offending lump of gunk.

"Yeah, what's wrong with it?" Cooper asks, turning back to frown at it, unable to see where he's gone wrong, a spot of flour on the tip of his nose.

"I thought you and Lex broke up anyway?" Kurt asks delicately, lifting the congealed mess back into the mixing bowl, trying to figure out where to begin.

"We did, but I want her back, and people love when you make stuff for them, so…" he shrugs, as if it's that easy. "Anyway," he starts again, wiping his floury hands on the apron, causing specks to catch and float in the air, in the warm sun which falls through the window. He turns to the laptop Kurt hadn't noticed sat on the kitchen island, flicking through internet tabs before stopping on American Airlines, and instantly Kurt's body fills with dread.

"No!" he says before Cooper's even had a chance to speak, "I am not going on a plane with you again," he insists, shaking his head as he turns away from Cooper's hopeful grin, adding more butter to his mix and kneading it with his hands.

"Oh come on Kurt, I wasn't that bad!" Cooper insists, picking up the laptop to hold it in front of Kurt. "We've both got a week off, we might as well go home together," he nudges Kurt's hip playfully as he leans down to retrieve a baking tray, almost knocking him over.

"No," Kurt insists, refusing to look at the screen. "Do you not remember the last few times you've flown?" Kurt asks, pleading Cooper with his eyes to not bully him into this.

"So I'm not the best flier, we can't all be as cool and collected as you," Cooper winks, to which Kurt rolls his eyes. "Come on, it'll be fun," he promises, nudging Kurt to look at the screen again.

He does so, albeit reluctantly. But after a few seconds of thinking about it he can't help but consider the idea; he hasn't been home since Christmas, it being early April now, and with a week off college it'll be the only opportunity he'll get before summer. "It won't be fun," he says weakly, although his resilience is dropping the more he thinks about it, and the more Cooper holds the cheap flights in front of him.

"Name _one thing_ about last time which wasn't fun," Cooper challenges, putting down the laptop and leaning cockily against the counter beside Kurt.

"I can name a dozen things," Kurt insists, flicking his eyes up angrily to glare at Cooper. "Number one; you crippling my hand on takeoff. Number two; watching you be lead off for a full body search. Number three;" Cooper can't help but chuckle as Kurt recalls previous incidents, who himself can't help but grin at the memory of Cooper's various flight related ordeals. "Number three;" he repeats, elbowing Cooper away when he tries to help shape the cookies, "you being forcibly removed from the plane on landing for being, and I quote," Kurt says, holding up an accusing finger, "'drunk, disorderly, and a potential hazard to the safety of the other passengers'-"

"Okay, okay, I get it," Cooper interrupts with an unwavering smile, "like I said, I'm not a relaxed flier, but come on Kurt," he whines, "I really wanna go home." He pouts as he takes the baking tray from Kurt and slides it into the oven. Kurt sighs and leans over him, adjusting the temperature before moving to wash his hands, allowing the silence to stretch as he contemplates the options. "You know I won't go alone," Cooper adds after a minute, making guilt swell like a balloon in Kurt's chest.

Kurt turns and stares at the still open webpage, flight dates for a week's time bright and tempting in front of him. He then turns to look at the man beside him, his wide, hopeful eyes, hands clasped together in front of him as if praying.

He sighs before speaking, "I have a few conditions," he bargains.

"I agree to all of them," Cooper exclaims, the widest, most childlike smile lighting up his face as he grabs Kurt in a fierce, floury hug.

"You don't even know what they are yet!" Kurt complains, scratching at his arms to make him let go. He eventually does, beaming so wide anyone'd think Kurt's just handed him the world. "Firstly, no drinking," Kurt says, earning a chuckle from Cooper.

"Okay, no drinking," he agrees.

"Please do not mention drugs again," Kurt begs. Cooper laughs uproariously at that, throwing his head back, eyes scrunching shut.

"Come on Kurt, you've got to admit, that guy did look suspicious," he complains, scrunching his face with the memory.

Kurt shakes his head but can't hold back the smile which creases his face, "yeah, he looked suspicious, but you're the one who started shouting about heroine and ended up with a cop's fingers up your ass."

"Hey! That's a good night out for some guys," he teases, to which Kurt punches him hard on the arm, making him laugh even more. "Okay, any more rules? Should I write these down?" he asks playfully, pretending to lick a pen and scribble on his palm.

Kurt rolls his eyes as he thinks of more rules. "No hitting on the female pilots," he tells him sternly.

"I like women in authority, sue me!" Cooper complains, raising his hands either side of him in a whatcha-gonna-do-about-it gesture.

"Whatever, find other women in authority, not the ones flying our plane," Kurt makes him promise before speaking again, "and you're paying for my cab fare home," he adds.

"Okay, I'll get dad to give you a lift home, anything else?" Cooper waits expectantly, raising his eyebrows questioningly.

Kurt paused for a second, watching Cooper's expectant face. "I'll let you know if I think of any more," he finally says, watching an easy smile spread across his friends face.

"You're the best," Cooper finally says through his smile, all joking aside as he beams, before turning back to his laptop and clicking for the cheapest flights.

"I know," Kurt says through a dramatic sigh, listening to Cooper laugh before turning and making his way back to his bedroom.

He slides back in behind his desk and picks up his discarded pencil, eyes roaming over the half drawn suit he was working on. He glances at his phone beside him, contemplating whether to ring his dad and let him know he'll be home in a weeks time.

In the end he decides not to, preferring to surprise his family and just turn up on their doorstep. So instead he erases a few mistakes on the paper, sketching a new collar and button detail, listening as Cooper sings along to the radio, voice out of tune and grating, making him grin nonetheless. 


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hi, *waves*, just wanted to say hello to any old readers, nice to see you guys again :) And to any new ones, nice to meet you guys too :) **  
**I'm going to try and minimise my authors notes, because anyone who read my first story knows only too well how I can ramble, so I'm going to try not to during this one (going well so far :|) but I figured now would be a good time to say, hello, welcome, and thank you for reading this far, and potentially reading further :) Any questions or queries or whatever, feel free to ask, on here or tumblr, I'll get back to you one way or another, and I hope you enjoy reading this story as much as I've enjoyed writing it so far :)**

* * *

"See, that wasn't that bad, was it?" Kurt asks reassuringly, squeezing Cooper's hand which is still gripping his painfully tight, knuckles bone white.

Cooper just shakes his head, taking deep breaths as they walk down the aisle of the plane, only letting go of Kurt's hand when they're safely in the airport.

"Sorry," he finally says after his hearts stopped pounding loud enough to drown out any other sound, the feeling in his fingers finally returning.

"Hey, it's fine," Kurt laughs, rubbing Cooper's back soothingly. "I only specified no hand crippling on take off, I said nothing about landing," he jokes. Relief floods his body when he sees a gentle, if not still somewhat shaky smile curl his friend's lips.

Cooper runs a hand over his face, breaths deeply and looks up at Kurt. He bats at him playfully when he sees Kurt hiding his smile, and that's how Kurt knows he's mostly back to normal. Kurt flexes his hand jokingly, wincing as he does so, earning a harder smack and a glare from Cooper, who takes another deep, cleansing breath and runs a last, finally steady hand down his face.

"Ready?" Kurt asks, waiting expectantly.

Cooper glances up and smiles, "yeah," he says, following Kurt as he leads the way to baggage claim. "Thanks, by the way, for, y'know," he adds as they force their way through the crowd, smiling shyly. Kurt throws him a smile over his shoulder and shrugs. It's what friends do.

Not long later they're stood with the sun beating warm and gentle against them in the airports short stay car park, eyes scanning for a familiar car. "Is that it?" Cooper asks, pointing to a black Lexus parked a few bays over. Kurt follows his line of sight and squints, focusing on the license plate.

"Yeah, I think so," he says, turning just in time to see a grin split across Coopers face.

They make their way over, suitcases dragging behind them, rolling against the tarmac until they reach the car. Kurt lifts their suitcases into the back while Cooper darts round the front to greet his dad.

"Da- Blaine!" Kurt hears him shout in surprise, glancing round the car to see Cooper's younger brother grinning happily from the front seat, sliding his phone into his pocket before stepping out. He looks a little older than when Kurt last saw him, but still smiling the same goofy smile and watching his brother with complete awe.

"Hey Coop," Blaine greets, stepping forward for a hug, which Cooper stops by taking hold of his wrists mid lift, holding him back as he stares incredulously at the car behind Blaine.

"Since when are you driving?" Cooper asks in shock.

"Since I turned 16, I told you I got my licence," Blaine replies, somewhat hurt by Cooper having forgotten, arms dropping to his sides.

"No, I know that, I mean, since when are you driving dad's _Lexus_?" Cooper practically howls in jealousy, hands still holding Blaine's wrists maybe a little too tightly in shock.

Blaine shrugs as Kurt throws his carry on bag in the back seat, rolling his eyes at Cooper's inevitable jealous. "Since I passed," Blaine says quietly, glancing round at the sound of a door slamming. "Hey Kurt," he greets, smiling over the car at his brothers friend.

"Hey," Kurt greets before sliding into the passenger seat.

"Well that's just great," Cooper says sarcastically, finally looking down at his brother and seeing hurt flash in his eyes. "Come on, give your big brother a hug," he then hurries to add, laughing under his breath as Blaine's face lights up before he steps into Cooper's embrace, head tucked into his shoulder. Kurt glances out the still open driver's door at the two of them, Cooper rolls his eyes over Blaine's shoulder, but Kurt can see the pure happiness shining in his eyes, the tight grip he has around Blaine before they both pull back. "Okay, in the back Blaine," Cooper says, patting him mockingly on the shoulder, moving to slide into the drivers seat.

"Woah, Coop, no!" Blaine complains, grabbing hold of the open car door, jostling with his brothers as they each try to push the other out the way.

"Blaine, move out the way, I'm driving," Cooper complains, pushing at his considerably smaller brother.

"No, your not! You're not insured, dad'd kill me!" Blaine argues, pinching Coopers arm, causing him to step back, rubbing the quickly reddening skin with a frown.

Blaine however makes the most of his distraction and practically dives into the driver's seat, reaching to shut the door before Cooper grabs hold of his arm and yanks, pulling his upper body completely out of the car while his legs remain in place.

Blaine screams, literally screams as he's tugged from the car, before the sound turns into laughter, free arm flying back, hand gripping the frame of the car as Cooper continues to pull with all his strength. "I. Want. To. Drive!" Cooper shouts, each words accompanied by an increasingly harder tug on his brothers arm.

"Get. Off of me!" Blaine replies, wrestling to drag his arm back, laughter starting to cramp his stomach muscles, making it considerably harder to hold on and fight back.

But by this time Kurt's had enough. He just wants to get home and see his family, eat some normal food and enjoy a Cooper-free afternoon. "Cooper!" he yells, leaning across the console to stare over Blaine's stretched body to glare at his supposed friend, "just get in the fucking car and let Blaine drive," he chastises, causing Cooper to halt all movements, a look of surprise creasing his face.

"But… I wanna drive," he complains like a petulant child, both hands still gripping Blaine's arm.

"I don't give a shit, just get in the back," Kurt complains. Cooper huffs and unceremoniously drops his brother's arm, causing Blaine to half fall against the ground. Kurt hoists him back up into a sitting position, glaring at Cooper through the door before smiling and rolling his eyes at Blaine.

"Thanks," Blaine says with a gentle laugh, returning Kurt's smile as he straightens his clothes and pulls his door shut gently, while Cooper slams his behind him.

But before Kurt can reply Cooper's complaining again, "why d'you get to go in the front?" he asks, poking Kurt hard in his ribs.

"Because I'm not acting like a little bitch, now shut up else I'm not getting on the return flight with you," Kurt threatens, feeling a sense of satisfaction when Cooper huffs and throws himself back in his seat.

However it doesn't take long for Cooper to get over himself and start questioning his younger brother while they drive to Kurt's, asking him about his new school and teasing him about a guy in class who he quite obviously has a crush on. Kurt can't help but watch with a smile as a blush creeps over Blaine's face, staining the tips of his ears red as he avoids any and all eye contact.

"Come on Blaine, all you've gotta do is ask him out!" Cooper half-begs from where he's pushed himself between the two front seats, watching as his brother glares at him out the corner of his eye, an unshakable smile still crinkling his eyes.

"I don't know whether you remember Coop, but last time I asked a guy out it didn't go all that well," Blaine says seriously, still smiling despite the sombre subject change.

"That's irrelevant Blaine," Cooper says, suddenly solemn, "you can't let that dance rule your life," he tells Blaine, referring to the Sadie Hawkins dance Blaine had attended the year before.

Kurt knows what'd happened, had been there when Cooper got the phone call saying his brother had been beaten by a group of guys after the dance. Kurt had caught Cooper when he'd crumpled to the floor, and was the one who drove him almost 600 miles through three states to get to Blaine's hospital bed when they were told there were no flights available.

Kurt glances round at Blaine and tries not to look at the thin, pale scar along his hairline, just visible against his shock of dark hair. He's been friends with Cooper since they were 15, in high school together, and has therefore known Blaine since he was ten, practically watched him grow up.

"I'm not letting it rule my life!" Blaine retaliates, eyes connecting with Cooper's through the rear view mirror, "I just don't want to ask him out, that's all." Kurt watches Blaine discretely, noting that he's no longer crimson, just a faint, pink blush remains high on his cheeks, and Kurt can't help but smile too. He remembers what it was like to be 16 and completely infatuated by someone, feeling your heart pound in your chest and your skin goose bump beneath their touch.

"Oh come on, you've been crushing on him for months," Cooper taunts, oblivious to Blaine's unwillingness to have this conversation.

"I don't even know if he's gay!" Blaine tries, elbowing Cooper back from where he's squeezed himself between the front seats.

"Well there's only one way to find out," Cooper replies, ignoring Blaine's attempts to knock him back, instead grinning like he's just won the lottery at his little brothers obvious embarrassment.

"I'm not asking him out Coop, I'll just make a complete idiot of myself. Now can you please just drop it?" Blaine practically begs, forcing an arm around his seat and finally knocking Cooper into the back. "And can you please put your seatbelt on!" he asks, glaring at his older brother through the mirror.

Kurt hides his smile behind his hand, staring out the window and coughing to cover his laughter.

The rest of the journey passes in blissful near-silence, the radio quiet in the background, Blaine humming gently along to certain songs, Cooper occasionally dramatically huffing in the back.

Eventually they stop outside Kurt's house, the driveway empty of cars just like he'd hoped. Kurt thanks Blaine quickly, giving him a brief hug at an odd angle from their seats before sliding out the car. Cooper's already out, grabbing Kurt's suitcase before dragging him into a fierce hug, a kiss on his cheek, before sliding into the front seat. Both Cooper and Blaine wave as they drive of, leaving Kurt to let himself in and wait for his dad and step-mum to get home from work, starting dinner with a simple smile on his face.


	3. Chapter 3

Kurt's lying in the garden, the sun beating down warm against his skin as he stretches and yawns, rolling over on the lounger, onto his side as he props himself up on his elbow and continues to read.

Yesterday his dad and step-mum Carole had been equal parts shocked and ecstatic that he was home, fawning over him all day, listening to stories of New York, his dad laughing good naturedly at Cooper's relatively incident free plane journey, while Carole worried aloud about him.

"It's good of you to come with him Kurt, not many friends would do that," she'd told him, smiling proudly before rebuking her husband, "and don't laugh at the poor kid Burt, at least he's getting better," she'd said. To which Burt had agreed and nodded, saving his smile and laughter for when she was out of earshot.

But Kurt had just smiled at his dad and waved it off, carrying on with the dinner he'd been preparing. "Is Finn not coming home this week?" he'd asked, surprised by the lack of his lumbering step-brother.

But it turns out he's gone with his new girlfriend to meet her family, boasting to Kurt when they spoke on the phone about the fact they live in California and have a boat and her dad had took him fishing in said boat. Kurt had listened and made appreciative, impressed sounds at all the right moments, before saying goodbye with the promise of an invite for him to come and visit New York soon. But maybe not too soon.

His parents are at work now though, so Kurt's escaped into the back garden, into the not yet oppressive heat of a summer waiting to begin, relaxing in the near silence, a welcome change from life with Cooper in a city of millions.

Not that he doesn't love Cooper. He does, he really does, but when you spend weeks on end in an apartment with the same guy, well, it's only natural to welcome a break from that person. With his ear splitting laugh, crude humour and his inability to put his washing away, leaving socks all over the place.

So for now Kurt's just enjoying being alone, being quiet and undisturbed, feeling time slink past and not worrying about anything. He's got a lot of work to do, he knows that, and doesn't need reminding of it. But for today he's pushed it to the back of his mind, secured it under lock and key and is instead lounging beneath the sky with a whole other world in his fingertips, in the pages of the book he's midway through.

His mind wanders occasionally, to his apartment miles away, his favourite coffee shop, the taste lingering in his periphery, just out of reach. His thoughts stray to the guy in his class who'd asked him out last week; how he'd fumbled through a lie of 'I have a boyfriend', just to avoid the awkwardness of turning someone down.

Not that he doesn't want a boyfriend. It's more a case of not wanting to _need_ a guy in his life. He hates the idea of falling for someone, falling hard with the weight of the world on your shoulders and a heart literally bursting with love, and therefore giving that person the ability to break your heart. No, Kurt definitely doesn't want that.

Although, when he tries to remember the last time he made a move, initiated a conversation or threw himself off the deep end and actually asked someone on a date, his mind comes up blank. He genuinely can't remember. And then he remembers why. He remembers the crippling, overwhelming, heart thundering fear of rejection, the way his words stutter and his palms sweat and the world seems to fight against every move he makes.

And then all of a sudden his heart goes out to Blaine. Young, innocent, partially-broken-but-still-smiling Blaine who was beaten for going to a dance with a guy, who at 16 can't build up the courage to talk to the boy he likes, let alone ask him out. But Blaine'll be fine, Kurt reassures himself, with his happy-go-lucky smile and his dark hair and the way he hums along to songs under his breath.

Blaine'll be fine, Kurt tells himself again, allowing his eyes to drift closed, body shuffling till comfortable, not letting his mind linger on the reason he's suddenly worrying about his best friend's brother. His best friends brother who has full, pink lips and bright, honey coloured eyes and who's probably never been touched by any hands but his own.

It's a few hours later, after he's dozed off and the sky has leaked navy above him, cold wind caressing his hair, when his phone rings beside him. He jumps awake, startled, blinking and shivering in the coldness of reality, the warm brush of imaginary skin against his disappearing with the wind before he reaches for his phone.

"Hello?" he asks, a yawn ripping through his body, toes uncurling as his fingers flex, pushing up into a sitting position.

"Hey, I rang around and there's a few other people back for this week too, we're going to Columbus to hit a few bars, you're coming right?"

Kurt groans, standing and stretching his aching back, grabbing all his stuff before shuffling into the house. "I dunno Cooper, I was kind of hoping for a quiet week here," he tries, knowing his excuses are pointless. If Cooper wants a night out, Cooper gets a night out.

"Well you've have two days to be quiet, now get you ass over to mine by nine 'cause we're heading out," and then he hangs up. Just like that, not giving Kurt so much as a second to respond.

Kurt tries ringing back, ready to feign inability or illness or apocalypse, but Cooper doesn't answer. So instead he trudges into his room and showers quickly before blow drying his hair. He dresses mostly without thought, pulling on grey, skin tight jeans, a striped t-shirt and dark blazer. He quickly fixes his face and hair in the mirror, starting to get a little excited to see his friends, who he hasn't seen in months, before slipping on his boots and pocketing his phone and wallet, heading down the stairs.

"Dad?" he shouts, wandering into the living room, "can I borrow your car?" he asks, walking right into the centre of the room so as to definitely get Burt's attention.

"Yeah, sure, where you going?" Burt asks, eyes roaming momentarily over his clothes.

"Columbus with some old friends, thanks," he says, leaning forward to kiss his dad on the head, repeating the action with Carole who's sat beside him.

"Hey, don't you go drinking and-"

"I know!" Kurt interrupts laughing, "we'll probably split a cab back to Coopers anyway," he assures his dad, momentarily resting a reassuring hand against his shoulder before leaving, grabbing the car keys from the hall.

"Hey Kurt?" his dad suddenly shouts.

"What?" he calls back, poking his head back into the room.

"How am I meant to get to work in the morning if you've got the car?" he asks.

"I'm sure you and Carole can share her car for one morning," Kurt laughs, rolling his eyes at Carole before disappearing. "See you tomorrow," he calls over his shoulder before disappearing out the door, down the drive and into his dad's car.

It's not long before he's speeding down the highway towards Coopers, little sparks of excitement firing in his stomach.

/

Kurt automatically straightens his collar as he climbs the few steps to the Anderson house, running a hand through his hair before knocking hard on the door, knowing they won't hear otherwise.

He takes a step back and waits, momentarily admiring the house with its large windows and light bricks. It's not by any means a big house, really just a little above average. The Andersons have money, that's undeniable, but they're not pretentious or snobby like a lot of people seem to assume on first impressions. Especially considering they'd moved to Westerville from Lima just so Blaine could go to a different school after the dance. A private school admittedly, but that's through necessity, not choice.

As long as Blaine's safe, is what Cooper had said while discussing the options with his parents in the hospital after the attack. Kurt had been asleep in the waiting room and overheard them talking by pure chance, working hard to keep his body still and not raise suspicion, hating the possibility of them thinking he was eavesdropping. So Blaine had transferred to Dalton. He'd slowly opened up to the other guys there, made new friends and joined clubs, before bit by bit he grew confident in his own skin again.

Just as the memory invades Kurt's mind the front door swings open to reveal the boy in question, dressed in mustard yellow jeans and a black polo. "Oh, hey Kurt," he beams, face illuminated by the warm orange light of the hall. He steps aside as Kurt slides in, toeing off his boots.

"Hey," Kurt greets, automatically looking towards the kitchen, "where're you parents?" Kurt asks the younger boy, turning to smile at him as he slides the lock over on the front door, noticing the absence of a crushing hug from Mr. Anderson and a decidedly more delicate hug and peck on the cheek from Mrs. Anderson.

"They went round a friends for dinner, should be back later," he says as he turns to face Kurt, "they'll be upset they missed you," he adds with a smile before turning and making his way up the stairs.

Kurt follows as he speaks, "no doubt I'll be here tomorrow morning, hung over and hating your brother more than ever."

"I hate him a little more every day anyway, so at least he's used to it," Blaine says jokingly as he makes his way down the long hall. Kurt listens to the lilt of his laughter and definitely does not look at the way his ass moves beneath the denim of his jeans. "I don't know how you put up with him everyday," Blaine says over his shoulder with an easy smile before turning into his room.

Kurt laughs, having asked himself the same question almost everyday of the past three years of living with Cooper. "Where is he anyway?" Kurt asks, shooting a look down the hall to what he knows to be Cooper's room before leaning against the doorframe of Blaine's.

"Oh he'll be a while yet, he's only just got in the shower," Blaine says absently with a shake of his head as he crawls onto his bed, shuffling into the middle and crossing his legs. He lifts the lid of his laptop, fingers loud against the keyboard before he looks up again, frowning very slightly. "You can come in you know, you don't have to stand out there," he says as a slow smile spreads over his face, causing Kurt's stomach to swoop strangely.

So Kurt shuffles in, stopping at the edge of Blaine's bed, leaning forward so that his knees depress the mattress a little, just resting there, watching the bones in Blaine's hands move beneath tanned skin as he types. "No plans for tonight?" he eventually asks, throat unusually dry as he forces himself to focus on Blaine's face.

Blaine shrugs a little, the tiniest smile curling his lips, "it's a Tuesday," is all he says as way of explanation, not glancing up from his screen.

"So? Stuff happens on Tuesdays," Kurt replies.

Blaine's hands still against the keyboard as he looks up at Kurt, face scrunching adorably as if to say 'what stuff?' But he doesn't ask, he just smiles another butterfly inducing smile before closing the lid of his laptop and pushing it to the side. "Sorry," he says, "I'm being rude."

"What?" Kurt immediately asks before his mind catches up, "oh no, don't let me interrupt you, I'll go and wait in Coop's room," Kurt says, signalling over his shoulder as he straightens up.

But as he does so a warm hand closes around his wrist, "you're not interrupting me," Blaine assures him, shaking his head and letting his wrist go now he's got his attention. He looks up at Kurt with them wide, honest, soul searching eyes before shuffling back a little, signalling for Kurt to sit down.

He does so; tentatively kneeling in front of the boy he's known for six years and wonders why all of a sudden something feels different. He tries not to dwell on the thought, instead focussing his attention on trying his hardest not to look at the 16 years olds muscular thighs beneath his jeans, the way his biceps fill his sleeves or those pink, tempting, probably untouched lips.

"So how's New York?" Blaine asks exuberantly, just at the exact moment Kurt's brain overrules his mouth and makes probably the biggest mistake of his life to date.


	4. Chapter 4

"Have you ever been kissed?" Kurt blurts, words rushing and tripping over one another before he clamps both hands over his mouth, eyes going wide in astonishment, heart practically leaping from his chest in pure shock.

Blaine's eyes also grow wide, lips parting a millimetre as if to speak, but it's too late, Kurt's speaking already, stumbling back off the bed, tripping over himself as he stands. "Oh my god, I'm _so_ sorry!" he apologises, running both hands through his hair and resolutely not watching the way Blaine's tongue works to dampen the lips in question. "I'll just leave," he says, closing his eyes in panic, hands fluttering uselessly before he turns and heads quickly towards the door, face on fire with embarrassment.

And just as he's about to leave, one hand already curled around the door frame as if to pull himself out quicker, Blaine speaks, one simple, innocent, sinless word which sparks a jolt of desire so strong through Kurt's body that his knee's almost buckle. "No," Blaine whispers from his bed.

Kurt halts in the doorway, hand tight around the door frame, knuckles bone white as a thick, engulfing silence swells around him, in the distance he can hear the thrum of the shower before he turns. His eye's land on Blaine, sat cross legged on his bed, hands loose on his lap as he stares at the bed sheets. Kurt can see his cheeks and ears are red, and can't help but find him hopelessly adorable, feeling his heart calm and swell in his chest, his breath catch.

"Blaine," he whispers, taking a step further into the room. "I'm sorry," he says, shaking his head, "I shouldn't have asked that, I- I don't know why I did," he tries to explain, ringing his hands nervously before Blaine looks up, eyes locking on Kurt's for the briefest moment, beautifully golden.

"I guess it's kinda weird," he confesses with a half shrug, eyes darting down, every movement suddenly sharper now he can feel Kurt's eyes on him.

"W-what d'you mean?" Kurt asks, still stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, exposed and unprotected.

"I'm 16 and I've never been kissed…" Blaine shrugs again, a habit of his before sighing at his bed sheets and looking up at Kurt. "Isn't that kind of sad?" he asks, scrunching his face in embarrassment before his gaze slips to focus over Kurt's shoulder, unable to meet his eye.

"Hey, no!" Kurt argues, moving to the foot of the bed. "It's not weird or- or sad, loads of people don't have their first kisses till they're older than 16," he tries to assure him, wanting to reach out and touch him, cradle him and wipe that unsure, ashamed expression from his normally smiling face.

"How old were you then?" Blaine asks, eyes locking quickly on Kurt's, the question coming not entirely out of the blue because really, Kurt should have expected it.

"Urm," Kurt shuffles awkwardly back onto the bed, wanting to be at eye level with Blaine but leaving as much distance between them as possible. "Well," he thinks aloud, "when I was 15 I kissed a girl but I don't- I don't really think that counts," he says, earning a light laugh from Blaine who catches his eyes for the briefest second, before looking away again, and Kurt feels as his heart soars at having made him smile. "And then- then when I was 16 this jerk from my school sort of, force kissed me, I don't even know," Kurt shrugs, waving his hand at the concerned expression on Blaine's face. "And then later that year I er- I met a guy who was er, my first proper kiss," he shrugs again, meeting Blaine's half smile with one of his own.

"So you were 16," Blaine confirms, voice a monotone.

"Well yeah, but just because _I_ was doesn't mean that's the- the standard age for first kisses or something," Kurt laughs nervously, picking at the seam of his jeans, feeling his heart jump a little with Blaine's laughter.

Silence stretches around them, the bed soft beneath them but the air thick with awkwardness, both incredibly aware of each movement the person across from them makes, the sound of water through the pipes above their heads and the closeness of their bodies.

"I want to," Blaine says after a stretch of endless seconds, voice full of conviction mingled with a hint of sadness, "but finding an eligible gay guy in Ohio is harder than you'd think," he laughs bitterly. Kurt doesn't mention that he was 16 in Ohio once too, hoping, just like Blaine probably is, for a handsome guy to come and sweep him off his feet.

"I could kiss you," Kurt offers before he's had a chance to think, his mind once again working faster than his lips and throwing him head first into the pits of hell.

"W-what?" Blaine asks, eyes wide, brow furrowed slightly, in confusion or shock Kurt can't tell.

"I- I meant, I didn't mean-" Kurt stammers, throwing his head back to look at the ceiling as he moves to push himself back and off the bed again, preparing himself to just gouge his eyes out, because anything would be less painful that this awkward, stifling, confusing conversation he's suddenly initiated.

"You could," Blaine suddenly says, urgency seeping into his tone as he reaches out and places a broad, warm hand on Kurt's knee, halting Kurt's movement, who instead just stares down at the hand. Heat seeps through the denim of his jeans, through to his knee, sliding up his thigh, spreading through his body until his fingers literally tingle from that small touch. When he finally looks up, Blaine speaks, "I mean, if- if you wanted to," he shrugs again, removing his hand, knotting it with his free one, swallowing when Kurt looks at him with wide, surprised, somewhat hopeful eyes.

"You want me to?" Kurt asks, unintentionally licking his lips as his eyes dart down to Blaine's; bitten deliciously red and painfully tempting.

"I… guess?" he says, sounding like a question as he watches Kurt for his reaction.

But Kurt just laughs, feeling tension roll from his body as he does so, smiling across at Blaine before speaking, "you don't sound too certain," Kurt teases, watching Blaine's eyelashes flutter as he laughs and the movement of his shoulders beneath his dark polo.

"I am," he finally says, catching Kurt's eye with blazing certainty in his own, while nerves makes his hands shake and apprehension coils like a snake within him.

"You are?" Kurt asks, needing to make sure.

But Blaine just looks down and nods at his knees, cheeks endearingly red as his Adam's apple works around a swallow.

So Kurt nods and swallows himself, edging forward on the bed, Blaine doing the same until their knees knock and Kurt reaches out to steady Blaine's still shaking hands.

His eyes dart up at the contact, suddenly so much closer, close enough for Kurt to count the flecks of green in them and the faint freckles over the bridge of his nose, feeling heat leak from his skin to fall over Kurt's. Kurt raises a hand, brushing Blaine's hair back from his face before tracing his hairline, unintentionally ghosting over that pale scar, watching as the boy's eyes flutter closed beneath his touch, lips parting with a sigh.

Kurt smiles at the reaction, watching just for a second as the boy remains frozen beneath his touch before leaning forward a little, eyes tracing the outline of Blaine's lips. Kurt's just about to shut his eyes, close the gap and infinitesimally tighten his hold on Blaine's cheek when Blaine speaks, the words like a secret against Kurt's lips. "I don't know what to do," he admits in a whisper.

Kurt can't help but laugh, resting his forehead against Blaine's and watching as his eyes flicker slowly open, momentarily startled by the proximity before his pupils grow noticeably wider. "You'll know," Kurt assures him, thumb tracing the shell of his ear, fingers threading a centimetre further into his thick curls, holding him close.

"Okay," Blaine finally says, swallowing again as his hands instinctively reach forward, not really knowing what to do with them and just letting them fall against Kurt's knees.

"Okay?" Kurt affirms, feeling his thigh muscles jump beneath the pressure of Blaine's hands, gripping a little tighter as Blaine swallows and nods. "Okay," Kurt repeats, watching Blaine's eyes search his own, breath skittering between their impossibly close lips, "close your eyes," he instructs when Blaine continues to stare, fearful but hopeful.

They stutter shut immediately, eyelashes fluttering as the hands on Kurt's knees tighten even further before Kurt finally closes the gap. It's chaste, just the simplest, sweetest, most delicate brush of lips, skin against skin, nothing really, but Blaine's grip tightens at the small contact, breath stuttering, pressing forward as Kurt pulls back.

Blaine's eyes blink open, confused and startled, lips still an inch from Kurt's who's grinning at the expression on his face, like he's both lost and found, wrecked from one kiss, one touch. "Again," is all Blaine says before he's leaning up, meeting Kurt's lips of his own accord, pressing harder as his hands inch subconsciously higher.

Kurt gasps in surprise, smiling against his lips before moving them together, close-mouthed and mostly dry as his hand runs further around Blaine's head, deeper into his hair before the boys lips part like an invite, warmth breath seeping with a moan from his mouth to Kurt's.

And Kurt takes advantage, he knows he probably shouldn't, it is only his first kiss after all, but Blaine's breath is warm, tasting entirely of boy with a hint of coffee and it makes Kurt's head spin in the most delicious way. So before he's really thought about what he's doing he's sliding his tongue out, brushing it over the sensitive skin of Blaine's lower lip, making him gasp and pull back. His eyes are hooded as he stares at Kurt for the longest second, in shock and want and confusion, lips kissed red, before he presses in again, nose bumping a little awkwardly as his enthusiasm triples.

And suddenly he's sliding his tongue out, repeating Kurt's action, a little too fast and wet but what does Kurt expect. So he meets him in the middle, slipping his tongue alongside Blaine's and feeling as the boy shudders beneath his touch, pressing forward forcefully, taking Kurt by surprise as his free hand scrambles back to steady himself against the bed, body aching as Blaine's hands inadvertently stray further and further up his thighs.

Then out of nowhere Blaine shifts, mirroring Kurt's kneeling position, messily detaching their lips with a wet smack, thighs opening as he edges slightly onto Kurt's lap, one leg forced between his knees. And Kurt can't help but smile as he stares up at the boy now a couple of inches above him; eye's dark from his touch, hair messed from his hand and lips red from his lips. Kurt straightens his back to take the press of Blaine's body against, before moving his hand from the bed to rest on Blaine's hip, anchoring him slightly over his thigh.

Blaine's straddling him now as he kisses Kurt again, moaning in the back of his throat, all hesitation and trepidation gone as his neck bows down to meet Kurt, who himself is craning up for more. Kurt can feel Blaine hard against his thigh, can't help but press up the tiniest fraction, feeling the body above him jerk and moan louder. Blaine wastes no time in slipping his tongue into Kurt's mouth, hands finally having regained movement as one presses sweaty against Kurt's neck, able to feel the frantic hum of blood beneath his palm while the other falls over Kurt's shoulder, palm splayed between his shoulder blades, pressing their chests together.

In the distance Kurt hears the sound of the shower turning off in the family bathroom, followed by the grind of a lock being undone. Hastily, and probably a little harder than necessary, he pushes Blaine off, their lips detaching with a smack. Blaine looks both confused and hurt as he falls back on his ass, thighs spread, landing on his elbows as he glances up at Kurt, who nods over his shoulder and leans forward to straighten Blaine's hair, inadvertently moving between his thighs.

Blaine's face is flushed with heat and embarrassment and a hint of pride as he laughs under Kurt's ministrations, earning a smile from the older man.

"Blaine?" Cooper suddenly calls, voice a noticeable distance down the hall, but that doesn't stop both boys jumping back.

Blaine quickly crosses his legs beneath himself, pulling his polo frantically over his crotch before calling back, "in my room Coop, Kurt's here." His voice is a little hoarse and he coughs to clear it, throwing Kurt a bashful smile, face beet red.

Kurt's shimmies back to the edge of the bed, returning his smile quickly with a reassuring one of his own, and then all at once Cooper's in the doorway, towel around his waist, teasing his brother's red face and demanding that Kurt comes and dresses him.

So Kurt stands, straightening his shirt as he does so and ignoring the slight tightness in his pants, Cooper's talking as he turns and walks down the hall, but Kurt's not listening. Instead he looks back into Blaine's room one final time, unable to resist smiling as the younger boy throws himself back on his bed, hands over his eyes, a wide, unrestrained, face splitting smile on his still red lips and a noticeable bulge beneath the yellow fabric of his jeans.

Kurt can't help but feel satisfied.


	5. Chapter 5

They see each other the following morning. Well, first Blaine see's Kurt when he walks by his brother's room for no reason in particular.

Cooper's sprawled on top of the bed, spread eagle, sweat pants low on his hips and upper body bare. He's snoring very gently, smacking his lips together, wriggling before stilling. But Blaine's not bothered about him, his attention focuses on Kurt beside him, crushed into the remaining space. The blankets are pulled right up to his chin, hair splayed dark against the white pillow, face tranquil and turned upwards slightly, towards the sun which streams broken through the half open blinds. His body is completely covered apart from one leg, poking out, dangling slightly over the edge of the bed, knee bent and curled over the covers. Pale and bare with light, coarse hairs. Blaine can see up to his knee, and a few inches of thigh, and his fingers flex subconsciously to touch again like he had yesterday.

After Kurt and his brother had gone out, after the sound of car tyres on the drive had disappeared and the headlights had swung past Blaine's room like a lighthouse, Blaine had lain back on his bed and unashamedly jerked off.

Quick and clumsy, the smell of Kurt's cologne still rushing through his body and making his head swim with lust. His heart thundering in his chest as he remembered the press of a boys, no, a _mans_ lips against his, his hands on his face, in his hair, on his hip. Holding him and touching him and making him tremble and _feel_ like he'd never believed was possible.

When he comes it's with Kurt's name on his lips and his taste on his tongue, the imaginary but now imaginable press of his body beneath and against Blaine's.

And then he just lies there, in the silence of an empty house, come on his hand, eyes closed and lips parted as he visualises Kurt slinking up his body, kissing him languidly and pressing all his weight and warmth against Blaine.

He rolls over after his breath stops coming in short, shallow drags and cleans his hand, his cock, rubbing at the little bit he got on his black top before dragging it off and throwing it across the room, his skin's too hot, body loose and pliable. He kicks off his jeans and boxers as well before crawling beneath the covers of his bed, emotions in turmoil as guilt and shame and happiness and desire swim in his blood in equal amounts.

He's just had his first kiss. With his brother's best friend. A guy who's 21, five years his senior.

Oh fuck, is his last thought before he falls into a restless sleep of warm, broad hands, easy smiles and hidden kisses.

But now it's morning, and after gawping at Kurt's leg for far longer than he'll ever admit, he makes his way downstairs, wearing pyjamas he hasn't slept in and a nervous expression. It's not unusual for Kurt to spend the night after hanging out with Cooper, if anything it's more unusual for him not to, but that'd mostly been before they left for college together three years ago, when Blaine had been thirteen, idolising his brother, not fantasising about his best friend.

Blaine grumbles something under his breath, index finger inadvertently running along his bottom lip before he pours milk over his cereal, sitting down at the breakfast bar and eating probably a little more aggressively than usual.

"Hey, what's up with you? I can hear you crunching all the way from the front room," his dad teases as he walks in, ruffling his hair like he does every morning, which Blaine doesn't normally find irritating, although today it makes his jaw clench before he replies.

"Nothing's up," he replies, shovelling another mouth full of cereal into his mouth and making sure to chew extra loud.

"You not going out with your friends today?" his dad asks, making himself a cup of coffee.

Blaine shrugs, "maybe, I dunno," he says, dropping his spoon loudly before making his way over to the sink, washing his bowl as he talks, "David said something about going over to his."

"Well you've gotta make the most of this week off," his dad smiles down at him, about to start a speech about his upcoming exams when Cooper and Kurt shuffle in, both bleary eyed and heavy limbed. "Hey boys," his dad greets them enthusiastically, causing them both to wince and rub their heads.

Cooper's thankfully put some clothes on while Kurt's wearing a borrowed t-shirt and his tight, grey jeans from yesterday, which Blaine actively ignores. Cooper heads over to the medicine cabinet, grumbling a reply to his dad and batting him away when he pats him hard on the back. Mr. Anderson then steps forward and pulls Kurt into a tight hug, "good to see you kid," he says, ruffling his hair like he had Blaine's and snorting in laughter as Kurt makes a face and pushes him away, mumbling something about a headache, before smiling sleepily at the oldest Anderson.

Kurt throws Blaine a guarded smile as he slides onto a stool while the others are distracted, to which Blaine blushes furiously before looking at the floor. Meanwhile Cooper's grabbed some painkillers and antacids, shuffling back over to Kurt and handing him some before throwing his own down his throat.

"Blaine," Cooper says as he drags himself onto the stool next to Kurt, "bring your poor brother some water," he insists as Kurt leans his head back and drops the pills one by one down his throat.

Blaine grumbles something again, earning a laugh from his dad who passes him some glasses. He fills them both with water and hands one to his brother, holding the other out for Kurt, feeling his heart rate increase as Kurt's head tilts sluggishly up to look at him, eyes slow and endlessly blue.

"Thanks Blaine," Kurt says as he takes the glass from him, fingers grazing Blaine's as he does so, and the younger boy can't work out whether it's intentional or not. But before he can decide Kurt's closed his eyes, throat working around each swallow and Blaine consciously has to look away from that.

"Dad, can you give Kurt a lift to get his car?" Cooper asks, looking expectantly at his dad, "I mean, I would, but I'm not trusted with the car," he sighs dramatically, shrugging at his dad as if to say 'what can you do?', actually thankful that he can get out of this job.

"Oh no," Kurt cuts in, "don't worry about it, I was planning on getting a cab anyway," Kurt assures Mr. Anderson, waving his hand absently.

"Blaine could give you a lift," Mr Anderson then says, glancing at his youngest son who practically chokes on his juice at the suggestion, "you're heading to David's anyway right?" he asks, to which Blaine half-nods, half-shrugs, a weird movement which causes Kurt to snort into his hand.

"Honestly, I don't mind getting a cab," Kurt reassures them, catching Blaine's eye, watching the boy flame red under his gaze.

"No!" Blaine then almost yells, making Cooper wince where his head is pillowed in his arms. "I mean," Blaine begins, "I don't mind, I'm heading that way anyway," he says, glancing briefly at Kurt before focusing on the cup in his hand. "I don't mind," he repeats in a mumble.

"Okay, great, now that's settled with someone please make me a fry up and a strong cup of coffee?" Cooper grumbles into the granite counter top, earning a laugh from his dad and an unsympathetic roll of his eyes.

/

Not long later Kurt's sliding into the passenger seat of Mr. Anderson's car, folding his blazer in his lap and tugging at the collar of yesterdays t-shirt, watching Blaine wave goodbye to his dad as he crosses the drive, before climbing into the driver's seat.

"Hi," Kurt says when Blaine catches his eye and smiles timidly, buckling his belt and starting the car.

"Hey," Blaine says back, feeling heat flood his face as he reverses out the drive. A few minutes pass in awkward silence, Kurt staring out his window, biting his lip to hold back his smile. "Where am I heading anyway?" Blaine eventually asks, resolutely not looking at the man beside him as he heads towards Columbus.

Kurt gives Blaine the name of the street he'd parked on the night before, turning to look at him as he does so, struggling to hold back a smile as he watches him nod, squirming slightly under his gaze before punching it into the sat nav.

Eventually though, Blaine builds up the courage to take his eyes off the road and shoots Kurt a shy smile, eyelashes fluttering as he looks away. "What're you smiling at?" Blaine asks after another minute, feeling his skin burn beneath the pressure of Kurt's eyes on him, the small but unmistakable smile which curls his lips. Lips that'd been on Blaine's not 24 hours ago.

"You," Kurt replies simply, still smiling and enjoying the blaze of red up Blaine's cheeks far too much, the sound of his disbelieving snort of laughter.

"What about me?" he asks, confidence growing slightly as he glances at Kurt again, biting back a smile of his own.

"You're adorable when you're nervous," Kurt tells him, revelling in the roll of Blaine's eyes, the way he sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, as if he's searching for the phantom taste of Kurt.

"I'm not nervous," Blaine insists, although he doesn't look Kurt in the eye when he says it because they both know it's a lie.

Kurt doesn't say anything, just hums under his breath, earning another snort-laugh from Blaine as he grins happily at the road ahead.

The atmosphere thins slightly after that, neither of them so painfully aware of their movements, Blaine relaxing back into his chair, once again humming along to the radio low in the background. Conversation finally begins between them, easy and simple and surprisingly relaxed as Blaine wonders aloud about New York, about theatre courses and Central Park and everything stereotypically touristy.

Kurt asks about Dalton, about friends and Glee Club and upcoming senior year and resolutely does not watch how Blaine's lips form the words he speaks, tongue dampening them every so often, eyes bright as he retells a favourite story, repeatedly glancing at Kurt to gauge his reaction, smile growing wider each time.

And Kurt can't help but smile back, eyes darting down to trace the tendons of his neck as he turns, the muscles of his arm as he changes gear, listening to the way his words stutter when he catches Kurt looking. But Kurt can't stop himself looking, finding Blaine not only hopelessly adorable but also bone-shudderingly gorgeous, with his tanned, golden skin, hard muscles and them shifting, ever-changing eyes.

He feels desire begin to build in his stomach, just a little at first before Blaine laughs at something, throwing a carefree, white-toothed smile Kurt's way, causing Kurt's hands to grip tight to the sides of his seat, biting his cheek hard, almost drawing blood as he holds back a needy groan. Blaine however is oblivious to Kurt's internal struggle as he turns down a side street, stopping behind Kurt's car.

Blaine puts the handbrake on and hears the click as Kurt unbuckles his belt just as he looks up and smiles at him, opening his mouth to speak, but suddenly Kurt's lips are on his.

The angle is awkward but perfect as Blaine gasps into Kurt's mouth, instantly kissing back, moaning as Kurt presses further forward across the console, his hands tangling in Blaine's hair, angling his face and holding him still as he slides his tongue out.

Blaine grapples for Kurt, still completely confused with what to do with his hands, movements restricted by his belt before one of Kurt's hands dips, unbuckling him and moving closer, half climbing into Blaine lap and feeling as the younger boy moans and trembles and involuntarily bucks his hips upwards.

"I- sorry," Blaine stutters against Kurt's lips, hands now resting against Kurt's thighs which are suddenly either side of him as he uncertainly kneads the muscles.

"Don't be," is all Kurt says because he's finally got his hands and body and lips on Blaine, his voice is deep and gravely, sending waves of desire so strong through Blaine's body that his spine arcs against the leather seat. He moans at the pressure of his jeans against his rapidly hardening cock, and then Kurt's lips are on his again, licking him open, sliding his tongue along the roof of his mouth. Blaine sucks on his tongue as Kurt had done yesterday to him, tasting the orange juice Kurt drank with breakfast.

Kurt moans at the feeling, desire slinking blood-hot and greedy up his spine as he presses forward, shuffling impossibly closer and lowering himself onto the boys lap, feeling sharp nails dig into his muscles through the denim of his jeans. He fists a handful of Blaine's hair, roughly tilting his head back as he kisses harder, rougher, digging his own nails in and taking what isn't his.

After a moment he drags their lips apart, breathing raggedly with closed eyes as Blaine's body quivers beneath him, hips jerking up, cock hard against Kurt's thigh. He can feel Blaine's chest heaving against his own as the boys face falls forward, into the curve of Kurt's neck, pressing a string of delicate, butterfly kisses over the skin beneath him, smelling of yesterday's cologne and sweat and Kurt. A smell so intensely masculine that Blaine whimpers and nuzzles his nose for more, committing it to memory and wishing he could wake to that smell on his skin every morning.

He flicks his eyes up when he hears Kurt laugh above him, his own face curling into a smile before Kurt kisses him again, considerably slower, gentler, as their bodies instinctively roll against one another. But soon that becomes not enough, the slow slide of their lips, so instead Kurt presses hungrily forward, biting and nipping down Blaine's jaw and neck and revelling in his tiny mewls and groans and whimpers before he slams their lips together one final time, Blaine's gasp of surprise echoing around the empty car as his hands wind clinging and pressing and grasping further and further up Kurt's body, hot and real and gorgeous above him.

Neither of them are sure how long it lasts, this drag of their lips together, the unpractised, wet slide of tongues or the roaming of hands, which Kurt manages to keep above the waist. Blaine's on the other hand having edged subconsciously further and further up the lean, hard muscle beneath his hands, have curved around until they're shaped around Kurt's ass, squeezing and holding and moaning shamelessly.

But eventually, whether after a few minutes or a few hours they'll never know, Kurt pulls back again, breathless and half-hard and completely turned on. "I'm sorry," he apologises, though he's not entirely sure what for, staring down at the wrecked boy beneath him.

Blaine's lips are still open, wet with Kurt's saliva as he breaths shallowly before his eyes blink open, pupils blisteringly black and unfocused before they find Kurt's, a slow, languid, easy smile curling his lips as his hands tighten on the ass still firmly planted on his lap before racing up, daring to run a couple of inches beneath Kurt's top to feel the hot skin of his lower back before sliding back down to his perfect ass. "Don't be," he parrots, swallowing as their chests press against one another, earning a small laugh from Kurt whose head is bowed awkwardly against the ceiling.

"I should…" Kurt trails off, motioning towards the now empty passenger seat. Blaine nods and laughs and avoids eye contact. "Blaine?" Kurt says, causing Blaine's eyes to dart up, expectant and hopeful and gorgeous, "you need to let go of my ass," Kurt tells him.

Blaine blushes painfully crimson as his hands drop like lead weights from where he hadn't realised he was still squeezing the perfect weight in his hands, shooting Kurt a coy smile as he slides off of him. Blaine instantly works to tug his shirt over his raging hard-on, praying Kurt hasn't noticed.

But of course Kurt's noticed, he'd felt the hardness of Blaine's cock pressed against his thigh a matter of seconds ago as Blaine rolled his hips up, whining at the restricted friction. He'd wanted nothing more than to slink his hand beneath the fabric and make Blaine _properly _fall apart, make him moan and want and come like he never has in his life. But he can't, not in Blaine's dad's car in the middle of a street. _Not ever, _he corrects himself as he works to straighten his own clothes, internally chastising himself.

"Er… I'm sorry, I just-" Kurt begins, feeling the need to explain, but not knowing how. What can he say to a never-been-touched 16 year old when all he wants to do is rip his clothes away and pick him apart, with his teeth and tongue and lips, watching his body writhe and want beneath him?

"I- it's fine, I er… it's fine," Blaine mumbles, biting his already red lips.

"Well, thanks for the lift I guess," Kurt finally says through a smile, watching as Blaine mirrors his expression and laughs.

"It's fine," Blaine repeats, smiling painfully wide, rubbing a hand down his face, fingertips ghosting over his trembling lips.

"Bye," Kurt finally says as he grabs his blazer from the floor where it's fallen, tucking it over his arm.

"Yeah, bye Kurt," Blaine says, watching the older man as he undoes the door and slips out, pushing it gently shut before smiling through the window, wonderfully dishevelled from his night out and from Blaine's lips on his.

Blaine watches as Kurt walks to his car, the sway of his hip and his broad shoulders, the stretch of fabric tight across them. He watches him open his door, sliding in, long, lean legs disappearing before the doors slams shut. And then he drives away, down the street and around a corner.

Blaine's head slumps back against the head rest as his mind reels. _What the fuck just happened? _He internally screams, staring at the corner which Kurt has just disappeared around and groaning as his body continues to shudder gently with desire. He dips a hand into his jeans, rearranging himself until he's slightly more comfortable. He doesn't understand what's just happened, but he resolutely promises himself that he is not going to jerk off in his dads car, he is not going to turn up at his friends house with a boner, and he is not going to imagine Kurt's long, pale body stretched out above him, mapping the lines and contours of his body when he gets home later.

Because that's his brother best friend and it's wrong and twisted and he shouldn't be feeling this way.

He sticks to two of his three promises.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Sorry about the wait, and about the fact that you may have got two alerts for this. I posted the chapter, and it was really short, and then I word counted the next chapter, which was equally short, and decided to combine them. So I'm sorry about if you got told twice but, hey, you get what was previously two chapters :) Enjoy...**

* * *

Kurt doesn't see either of the Anderson brothers again until the end of the week, until he turns up on their drive with his dad honking the horn as Kurt stomps moodily up to the front door. He pounds on it, earning a grunt from Mr. Anderson as he pulls himself up from his chair in the living room, dropping his newspaper before going to answer it.

But before he can get there Cooper's rushing past him, barrelling down the stairs and sliding on his socks over the polished floor of the hall. "I'm here Kurt!" he yells as he quickly unlocks the door, swinging it wide open to be met by the sternest face Kurt can muster at such short notice.

"If we miss this flight, _you_ are paying for the next ones. I cannot _believe _you told me the wrong time you comple-" Kurt's anger gets cut off midstream as Cooper laughs joyously, sliding his feet into his shoes before lugging his suitcase out the door, knocking it hard against the wood and shouting up to his mum before crossing the drive. He throws his stuff unceremoniously into the back of Burt's car, greeting the man in question with a lopsided smile. Burt responds with a raise of his eyebrows, followed by a deep chuckle, far too used to Cooper and his lack of memory and time-keeping and organisational skills.

Cooper then rushes back into the house as his mum races down the stairs, Blaine sleep-messed, slow and groggy behind her. As Mr. and Mrs. Anderson kiss and coddle and hug their son goodbye, Blaine catches Kurt's eye behind his parents back, smiling before blushing and blinking away.

Kurt can't help but find him painfully adorable again, feeling a strange churning begin in his stomach as he watches the awkward, unsure, still half-asleep boy fidget on the spot, toeing at the floor with his socked feet and fiddling with the hem of his loose pyjama top.

But then suddenly Blaine's being dragged into the arms of his brother, hair ruffled and back thumped before Cooper cups his now somewhat grumpy looking face in his hands. "Take care of yourself Blaine," Cooper tells his baby brother, bopping a kiss on the end of his nose, to which Blaine grumbles, scrunches his face and swats at his brother.

Cooper's parents quickly hug and kiss Kurt, telling him to thank his dad for the lift, wishing them a safe journey. Kurt smiles and nods and hugs back at all the right times, unable to stop himself as his eyes once again find Blaine's over his mother's shoulders.

He can't read his expression; he's frowning but smiles when Kurt looks at him. He does a tiny, almost unnoticeable shrug, which Kurt's quickly learning to be a habit of his, before tentatively holding out his hand, palm up in offering. The exchange is out of view behind Mrs. Anderson's back as Kurt reaches his hand out too, their fingers grazing delicately, too soft and not enough. Not nearly enough as Kurt's stomach is suddenly filled with sickness, his heart aching for the loss of something he's never really had

And then the simple brush of unsure fingers is gone, the phantom feel of Blaine's skin warm and rough against his own evaporating like smoke from an extinguished flame. And he's pulling back from the hug, smile now fake as he says goodbye one final time, before being shooed with Cooper out the door, down the drive, into the car, fingertips tingling. And he can't help but raise then to trace the edge of his lips as he looks up one final time.

He can see Blaine; through the windscreen and the space between them and the shoulders of his parents. His fingers are pressed to the corner of his mouth, before his eyes catch Kurt's. They're blisteringly golden and confused looking, torn and bemused and a little bit frightened before Burt starts the car and reverses out the drive.

He drives away from the house and the Andersons and the no longer never-been-kissed boy who stares lost out the front door. Long after the roar of the engine has disappeared with the wind, lips bitten red with desire and heart pounding unexplainably fast in his chest.

/

Kurt holds Coopers hand during takeoff, just like he always does. But he doesn't hold tight, he doesn't squeeze back reassuringly when Cooper's grasp becomes painful around his knuckles. He just takes it. He takes the pain and watches as Ohio disappears behind and beneath them, feeling his heart stammer in his chest and his mind try to work out the emotions firing like sparks in his veins, and if Cooper noticed the difference he didn't mention it.

So they got back to New York and rang their respective families to let them know they've landed and are safe. Kurt hangs up after a short call with his dad, before listening to Cooper talk to Blaine through the thin walls of his bedroom, adjacent to the living room.

He knows it's Blaine by the way Cooper laughs, the way he keeps mentioning senior year and 'that boy in your class', who from what Kurt can gather, Blaine no longer has a crush on, which Cooper teases him even more for. "Only last week you were lamenting about how pretty his blue eyes are," Cooper practically shouts, and Kurt feels his insides clench and hold tight to an unnameable emotion.

Kurt's half tempted to go out there, to shout a 'hello' to Blaine, ready to smile and roll his eyes when Cooper inevitably passes him the phone to say hi properly. It'd be so easy, he thinks, to get the chance to speak to Blaine on the phone. To be able to hear the tone of his voice and if he's lucky be able to make him laugh, to close his eyes and visualise his smile. But it's pointless, he eventually concedes as he throws himself back on his bed and turns his stereo higher, blocking out Cooper's laughter.

Because what would he say? He couldn't possibly speak to Blaine how he used to, before he kissed him. But then again he couldn't say the things he wants to say with Cooper in the room, the things he's actively stopping himself thinking about, because that's his best friends little brother.

So instead he waits until he's sure Cooper's no longer on the phone before emerging from his room, with a fake smile and a hollowness in his chest, taking a deep breath as Cooper grins at him, before getting on with his life.

/

Two weeks later Blaine meets someone, a boy his own age, tall with combed back hair and a cocky smile. He makes Blaine blush over coffee before making Blaine blush between kisses, and more.

Admittedly, this new boy doesn't make Blaine's heart beat like a drum, the vibrations spreading like music through his body beneath the thin skin stretched over his ribs. He doesn't make Blaine fall apart with just his lips. Nor does he make him yearn for the smell of the other boys skin or the rhythm of his heart, and he certainly doesn't make his skin goose bump with just the brush of not-enough fingertips.

But he's there, and he's real, and he's reach-out-and-touchable. And admittedly he does make Blaine's heart flutter slightly faster, his body tremble pleasantly, his mind get just a little fuzzy round the edges.

This new boy's like a rainstorm, a little frightening and a little exciting but very forgettable.

Whereas Kurt's the hurricane that wakes you in the dead of night, his name on your lips and the unforgettable press of his body against yours. The thump of his heart beneath your hand and the lightening which sparks up your spine and spreads white-hot through your veins, until every touch is an electric shock, every kiss a crash of thunder and every moment a white-out behind your eyes as your body trembles with electricity.

Blaine tries not to think about Kurt, but it's hard to not think of the exhilaration and excitement and the exact crash of a hurricane when you're stuck in the mediocrity of a rainstorm.

Kurt, on the other hand, doesn't meet someone, a guy his own age. He meets many guys, some who make him smile, some who make him laugh and some who just make him come, and then some who don't even do that.

But none of them make him _crave. _None of them make him want to reach out and touch and taste and take. Their smiles don't take his breath away and their touches don't make his body shudder, his mind stutter or his heart thunder. They're not special or notable or worth a second glance.

He tells himself he doesn't know why when a handsome guy smiles at him across the bar his heart doesn't pound. And he tells Cooper that he's just not interested in a relationship at the minute. And then he tells his body to stop aching for an awkward shrug followed by a shy smile, a boy with a body that's never been touched.

/

It's early summer, just before his exams when Blaine ends up ringing his big brother uncharacteristically late one night for help with some English work. Cooper answers, up late anyway, cramming for his own English exams.

Midway through their conversation, somewhere in between discussing the significance of sibilance and Cooper reciting related quotes for his brother, the apartment door bangs open.

Blaine hears it even down the phone, the thwack of the door hitting the wall, the ricochet as it slams back shut as Cooper jumps up, the drama queen in him assuming the worst before throwing his bedroom door open, just in time to see a stranger drop to his knees in front of Kurt.

Kurt doesn't realise he's got an audience, especially not a boy sat frozen at a desk over 500 miles away, Kurt's unashamed moans reaching his virgin ears. Blaine gasps, transfixed, before screwing his eyes shut and pushing away the mental images those noises produce as Kurt stutters into the darkness of an assumed empty apartment.

"Oh- oh fuck," he groans gutturally as Cooper watches, frozen in shock as the man on his knees takes Kurt's cock into his mouth, ball deep, groaning around the length as Kurt moans and thrusts above him. "F-fuck, yes. Right th- oh _god_," Kurt practically screams, leant against the wall, head thrown back and eyes glazed, unfocused before they fall on Cooper.

"What the fuck?" Kurt yells upon realisation of the eyes on him, yanking the man off his cock by his hair and tugging his boxers hastily up. "What the fuck are you doing Cooper?" he asks, furiously pulling up his jeans and knocking the guy away as he fumbles to kiss him, before furiously making his way over to where Cooper's still stood frozen in his doorway.

But Cooper regains the use of his limbs and quickly bolts back into his room, slamming the door and leaning back against it, firmly gripping the phone still pressed hot to his ear. "Oh god," he whispers to himself before there's a pounding on his door.

"Next time I'm getting my dick sucked Coop," Kurt shouts angrily through the wood, "I'd rather not see your face watching me through the darkness!" he finishes aggressively with a hollow kick to the wood.

Copper can't help but snort a small laugh before he hears Kurt very unceremoniously escort his guest out of the apartment, another door slamming before silence reigns thick and awkward around the small apartment.

"Is he gone?" a small voice suddenly asks, startling Cooper who's completely forgot Blaine was on the phone.

"Huh? What? Did you er- did you hear all that?" Cooper asks, running a hand through his hair as he crosses back to his desk, falling heavily into his chair.

"Yeah, I er- I heard it," Blaine confesses, voice still unusually quiet.

"Kurt scared the shit out of me," Cooper breaths, laughing gently and shaking his head, putting a hand over his heart and feeling as it calms.

"Is he gone?" Blaine repeats, voice a little stronger than before.

"Who? Kurt?" Cooper asks, a little bit confused and not really listening as he hears his flatmate banging around in his own room, before the sound of the shower being flicked on fills the apartment.

"No the er- the other guy?" Blaine asks nervously, trying hard to keep his voice steady, not letting his mind wander and form the image of Kurt splayed out in the dark, cock hard and curved against his stomach, voice deep and rough like he's just heard, but begging for Blaine instead of the stranger.

Cooper laughs somewhat hollowly, "yeah, he's gone," he laughs again, rubbing his tired eyes, "poor guy," he adds.

Blaine just laughs back, completely fake as he mentally disagrees with his brother. Anyone who can make Kurt Hummel moan like that is not a 'poor guy' in any sense of the words, in fact, anyone who can get their hands, or indeed their mouth, on Kurt is in Blaine's mind the luckiest guy alive.

After a few minutes Blaine pleas exhaustion and says bye to Cooper, promising he'll ring after his exam to let him know how it goes. He then packs away his school things, knowing he won't be able to focus, no matter how hard he tries, before crawling into bed, allowing his mind to stray.

It's doesn't take long for his hand to slink down the front of his pyjamas as he forces himself to recall the memory of Sebastian, his _boyfriend_, on his knees between Blaine's legs; lips pink and stretched and eager as he bobbed up and down on Blaine's cock. Moaning for all he's worth, no doubt re-enacting some of his favourite porn. It had been a little too sloppy and a lot too quick, but Blaine didn't complain. It was, by all accounts, Sebastian's first blowjob too.

And Blaine had come, quite spectacularly, although it was the first time anything but his own hand had touched his cock, so what did he expect? That is the aim of getting your dick sucked after all, and it was from another boys mouth, which he very nearly came in.

But tonight as Blaine's hand moves tight and fast along the length of his cock, other hand fisting the sheets in the darkness of his bedroom, the boy he's imagining between his legs suddenly morphs and distorts and alters. He becomes slightly paler and grows older, lips pinker and eyes bluer and becomes devastatingly gorgeous, until all of a sudden it's Kurt's face between his legs and he's struggling to hold back moans as he thrashes and writhes and falls apart. Falls apart just from the _thought_of Kurt's perfect, slick lips curled around him, tongue which has chartered the territory of Blaine's mouth lapping up his length, hands hot and dizzying on his thighs.

And then the fantasy in his mind alters again, and suddenly it's _him_on his knees, Kurt tall and lean and endlessly long above him. Unfathomably blue eyes trained on Blaine between his thighs as he runs his fingers along his hairline, like he had that first day on Blaine's bed, before running round and into his hair, pulling him forward. But this time it's not to his lips, but to his hard, curved cock, nestled in dark hairs and waiting for Blaine's virgin mouth.

And as these images paint patterns beneath his eyelids and phantom touches race over Blaine's skin, lust and desire and want and pure, undiluted _need_rushes through his blood and explodes inside Blaine's body. In every cell as he bucks and moans and comes; the image of himself on his knees opening his mouth, feeling the weight of Kurt hard and hot on his tongue as his orgasm hits him again, wave after wave sparking and firing up his spine as his muscles tense and his mouth closes around a fantasy.

And then it's over. The fantasy floats lighter than air from his mind although the startling blue of Kurt's eye remain burnt into his irises, as his body slumps and relaxes and falls back down to earth. Small waves of pleasure still skittering up his thighs every so often as he recovers from the most bone-shuddering orgasm of his life.

He rolls over eventually and pads into his bathroom, feeling ashamed beneath fluorescents, feeling his skin prickle with guilt that he's just jerked off to someone who isn't his boyfriend, someone who _is _his brothers best friend. Then again, it isn't the first time for either of those things, so he doesn't dwell on the thought.

He washes quickly, wary of waking his parents with the rush of water through the pipes before climbing exhausted and sated and a little bit thrilled into bed, kicking the blankets down to his hips before falling to sleep, heart still racing a little higher than usual, his body throbbing for the taste of Kurt in his mouth.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: I'm sorry about the wait and how small this chapter is, but the next one will be up tomorrow I promise and is much longer. Thank you to everyone reading and reviewing and you're all wonderful.**

* * *

A few days later, after the drama of The Midnight Blowjob, as Cooper called it, blew over, he wandered into the living room after talking to his brother on the phone. "Blaine's broke up with his boyfriend," Cooper tells Kurt as he falls onto the couch next to him, smiling crookedly as Kurt frowns.

"What boyfriend?" Kurt asks a little too loud, voice a little too concerned.

"That Sebastian kid, I told you 'bout Sebastian," Cooper replies, flicking absently through TV channels.

"Er, no. You didn't," Kurt assures him, taking the remote from him with a little too much force, causing him to turn and stare incredulously.

"I'm pretty sure I did," Cooper replies, lunging for the remote and frowning when Kurt holds it well out of his reach.

"I'm pretty sure you didn't," Kurt replies a little angrily, feeling his stomach drop and churn. "I'd've remembered," he insists, realising a moment too late how strange that sounds.

But Cooper seems more concerned with the remote as he shrugs and speaks, "well sorry, I didn't realise you cared so much," he says and it's equal part sarcasm and equal part questioning.

"I- I don't care," Kurt hurries to convince him, "I just er- don't like being accused of not listening," he replies feebly, giving in the struggle and handing Cooper the remote, which he promptly snatches with a smirk. "So when did Blaine meet this guy?" Kurt asks, trying to sound unbothered while his stomach continues to knot and tangle with an emotion he's not willing to name.

"I dunno," Cooper shrugs indifferently, "he goes Dalton, they started dating like, five weeks ago? A couple weeks after we left I think," Cooper replies absently, oblivious to Kurt's frown.

"What's his name again?"

"Sebastian," Cooper replies, settling on an old action movie and humming along to the opening credits, a habit frighteningly similar to his younger brother.

"Why'd they break up?" Kurt eventually builds up the courage to ask.

Cooper shrugs, "something about him being too pushy and not really his type,"' he says. "He's too young for a boyfriend anyway," he then adds, turning to glare when Kurt huffs.

"That's rich coming from you," Kurt manages to say with another snort.

"What's that's supposed to mean?" Cooper asks, a little hurt as he watches his friend roll his eyes.

"Coop, you lost your virginity when you were 15, at a house party, with a girl whose name you can't remember. I don't really think you're the right person to preach about relationships," Kurt says as kindly as possible, patting his friend in mock consolidation on the shoulder.

"But that's my point," Cooper argues, turning to face Kurt properly, his back against the right angle of the L-shaped couch, "I don't want some rushed, sordid, we-did-it-because-we-were-drunk-and-bored first time for Blaine," he says a little pleadingly, frowning at Kurt who stares back shocked. "I want his first time to be with someone he loves and who loves him, not the only other available guy he knows," he concludes with a shrug.

"So he didn't love this Sebastian boy?" Kurt asks, able to predict the answer but wanting to hear it confirmed by someone other than his self conscious.

Cooper snorts and shakes his head, "he's 16, of course he didn't love him, he doesn't know what love feels like," Cooper concedes before turning back to the TV, flinching when a guy gets kicked in the balls.

But Kurt just sits motionless beside him, staring into the distance, wondering whether it _is_possible to fall in love at 16, knowing that Blaine's lips have touched ones other than his own now, and wondering whether his body is still as unclaimed and untouched as it was when Kurt straddled him and felt his hips lift and grind of their own accord. Maybe not, Kurt concedes, once you factor in the hormones and the inexperience and the eagerness of teenage boys, well, a lot can be done in five weeks.

And as this thought strikes him the sickness in his stomach twists painfully, making his jaw clench and his hands fist and his head ring with what he now realises is jealousy. He's jealous of a boy he's never met for touching his never-been-touched boy, and potentially taking away something which was never Kurt's to _want_ in the first place, let alone _take_.

"Hey! Kurt?" Kurt suddenly realises Coopers waving a hand in front of his face, speaking his name increasingly louder.

"Hmm? Yeah? What?" he asks all at once as he shakes his head and pushes his unwarranted jealousy to the back of his mind, along with the image of a shy boy with sleep-messed hair and rough fingers, kisses which made Kurt's lips tingle and a body which he would happily fall apart beneath and above and against. Over and over.

"I said I booked his flights," Cooper repeats himself, shaking his head and laughing at Kurt who had very clearly not been listening.

"Whose flights?" he asks, having completely lost track of the conversation.

"Blaine's," Copper says, furrowing his brow at Kurt's confusion.

"Where's he flying to?" Kurt asks, finally focusing all his attention on Cooper, who just stares at his friend, lips parting to speak before he just blinks, bemused.

"You're really out of it today Kurt," he manages through a laugh, shaking his head again before throwing Kurt a somewhat worried expression. "Flights to New York," he finally says, watching Kurt out the corner of his eye, "like I promised for his 17th, in August, I asked you a couple months ago, remember? You said you didn't mind..." he trails off a little, suddenly worried that his brilliant birthday present idea will be scuppered.

"Oh, er- yeah, yeah I remember. Sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me," Kurt manages to say with a nervous laugh as his heart thumps in his chest; raising a hand absently to press against it as his mind absolutely reels. "When's he coming?" he eventually asks with a rough voice, throat suddenly unexplainably dry.

"Mum said his last exams June 12th, so I booked it for the 14th, in the morning, give him a day to pack and stuff," he smiles and Kurt and shrugs, "you sure you don't mind?" he asks, recognising a momentary, badly hidden, flash of panic cross Kurt's face.

But Kurt quickly recovers, stuttering out a reply, "no, what? Yeah, no. No, I don't mind," he shakes his head and attempts to smile normally while his insides are throbbing and knotting with a mixture of excitement and dread. "How long is he er- staying for?" he manages to ask, forcing his hands between his knees because they've just started to shake, and he couldn't for the life of him tell you why.

"A month," Cooper says with a mischievous smile, obviously pleased with his planning and oblivious to the unexplainable emotions waging war beneath Kurt's skin, in his very mind and heart.

His mind is telling him he's being stupid and foolish and immature and what is he thinking? Because that's _Blaine_, Coopers little brother, who used to ride his bike up and down the road for hours in the rain and who would badger Kurt and Cooper to let him play video games with them. He's a boy who's five years younger than him and so wildly out of bounds that just _thinking_about him makes Kurt's mind ache with guilt.

But then his heart argues and makes him excited and nervous and giddy. Because it's _Blaine_, cute, adorable, shy little shrugging Blaine, who's hands know the shape of Kurt's ass and whose tongue knows the taste of Kurt's mouth. Blaine who moaned and writhed at the press of lips; who Kurt can't help but wonder how he'd react beneath the heat of a body, the slide of skin, so much more than the press of lips. Blaine whose body Kurt can't get out of his mind, having felt it solid and hot against his, wanting for what he can't have while Kurt did the same.

"You're sure you don't mind?" Cooper asks for the third time, knowing Kurt well enough to see something's not right.

But Kurt just nods and laughs and reassures him that it's fine, while he internally wonders how he's possibly going to keep his hands and lips and body to himself when all he wants is to reach out and touch and grasp and press, feel hard muscles jump beneath his hands and strong bones quiver beneath his lips.

He tells himself that Blaine won't want him, not now he's had a boy his own age. But then a tiny part of him asks, but what if Blaine _does_want you? How are you possibly going to control yourself then?

It's with this conundrum circling like a wasp in his head that he tunes out the movie and Cooper and the world and allows his nerves to drown in 'what if's.


	8. Chapter 8

In between end of year exams and assignments and saying goodbye to friends Kurt manages to push Blaine's ever nearing arrival to the back of his mind, and instead focuses on promises to friends and wordy essay titles and finishing off designs. He begins to spend more and more time actually _at_college, distracting himself from the state of the apartment. If there's anything Kurt's learnt over the past three years of living with Cooper, it's that he appears to have two modes.

Average-Everyday Mode, in which his clothes and books and papers will scatter like leaves around the apartment, just waiting to be tripped over by Kurt before Cooper eventually clears them up with a little chuckle and muttered apology. And Kurt will just roll his eyes and shake his head and wander into the sanctuary of his own room.

And then there's I-Have-An-Exam-In-The-Near-Future-And-No-Time-To-Put-My-Shit-Away Mode, in which practically Cooper's entire closet gets strewn around each room of the apartment, him being too tired and stressed to wash anything and just slowly working his way through all his clothes until he ends up sitting his last exam in a winter jumper and Kurt's too small sweat pants. Books litter every surface, their large, normally neat bookshelf looking bare and skeletal, their collection of books having practically doubled with each of Cooper's visits to the library. The need to return books also being forgotten as part of the No-Time-To-Put-My-Shit-Away mantra Cooper develops during this time, which often leads to a hefty library fine after his exams, which Cooper pays with a wink and a smile to the delicate lady behind the desk, who each times rolls her eyes and holds her hand out for the money.

So for the weeks before Blaine's arrival Kurt spends a significant amount of his time tucked away in a corner of his college, pouring over designs and sketches and adding and erasing, sighing and yawning and keeping his mind as occupied as he can. It's only when he gets the occasional text from Cooper, who himself only remembers sporadically, that Blaine's imminent arrival comes surging back to the forefront of Kurt's mine;

'_Do we even have spare bedding?'  
_'_**Yes, stop panicking. How's the essay going?'**_

'_We need Reese's Puffs, they're his favourite'  
**'Don't try and trick me with this, I can see straight through your lies'**_

_'Have you seen my green shirt and am I going to have to do Blaine's washing when he gets here?'_  
_'I don't even know how to wash a bow tie'_  
'_**It's under the left sofa cushion. He can do his own washing, he's old enough, bow ties and all'**_

_'Do you think we could sneak Blaine into a bar?'_  
_**'What do you think?'  
**'Is that a challenge?'_

This chaos continues for the next unknown number of days, all blurring into one string of endless moments until finally Kurt's school work comes to an end, the last paper signed and garment sewn, all handed in as the weight of the world lifts from his shoulders. He trudges home, an unmoveable, exhausted smile on his face as the cool wind whips around his worn out body, the freedom of summer stretching before him. When he gets home he's unsurprised to find Cooper asleep on the couch, laptop on the coffee table in front of him, a dozen books held open by various items, a polo of Kurt's stretched over his back and a pair of running shorts barely covering his legs.

"Coop? Come on, Cooper?" Kurt whispers, gently shaking his best friends shoulder from behind the couch, not wanting to startle him. But he jumps anyway, shooting upwards, papers crinkling beneath his disorientated body as he blinks and looks around at Kurt.

"Wha's goin' on?" he murmurs, rubbing at his eyes, and tugging at his knotted hair.

"You fell asleep. You should go bed Cooper, I'll try and clear up a bit," Kurt offers, gently batting away his hands and carding his finger through Cooper's hair, hearing him groan beneath the comforting touch.

"What time is it?" he asks, looking up at Kurt.

"Almost seven," Kurt tells him.

"Can I ring Blaine later? Tell him 'bout Saturday?" He asks through another body-trembling yawn.

"Course you can, just go and have a nap while I clean and then you can ring Blaine and reveal your big surprise. How about that?" Kurt offers, watching a weak smile tug at the corners of Cooper's lips at the mention of finally being able to tell Blaine.

"M'kay," he eventually sighs as he stands. Kurt groans as Cooper stretches, hearing each crack and grind of bone, practically feeling each stretch of his aching, cramped muscles. "Sorry I'm such a pain at the minute, dunno how you put up with me," Cooper says, shooting Kurt a smile before stepping around the couch and pulling him into a tight hug.

Kurt stifles his laughter and hugs back. "You can make it up to me by buying me a new shirt, this ones all stretched out," he says, pulling at the fabric and earning a muffled apology mingled with a snort of laughter.

Cooper then turns and pads over to his room, dragging the polo in question off before falling face first onto his bed. Kurt watches through his open bedroom door as he shuffles up slightly, bending his legs up to his chest, dragging a pillow down before falling peacefully, soundlessly asleep.

Kurt can't help but smile a little, allowing himself a yawn before beginning to clear up, but it seems that with only the mundane task of cleaning to distract him he's unable to stop his mind from wandering to the fact that in only three days time Blaine will be here. In New York. In their apartment. For a month.

Kurt sighs under his breath and tells himself for what feels like the hundredth time that it'll be fine. All he's got to do is keep his hands to himself, his mind out of the gutter, and his lips from speaking the words he hasn't dared admit to himself yet.

He'd initially put his feelings down to attraction. Just pure, simple, easy-to-ignore attraction to a gorgeous boy, made only more attractive by the fact he knows he can't have him.

But this changed, slowly and unnoticeably among the rush of life, among the passing of days, morphing into something else not wholly unlike attraction, but stronger. Harder to push to the back of his mind. Impossible to ignore.

And before Kurt knew it his attraction for a never-been-touched boy had disintegrated and been rebuild into impure, sordid, delicious, adulterated _want. _Want which caught him in the dead of night and woke him, sweat drenched and hard in the all-knowing darkness. Want which caused his entire body to _ache _from the inside out. Want which trapped him in the iron-like cage of his ribs, blood pumping violently but to no avail.

And he _hates _it. Hates this feeling he has no control over, his body which he has no control over and his mind which he has no control over. Because as much as he's ignored it and fought it and resolutely denied it to himself, he can't help but remember the hesitant, unpractised drag of Blaine's cherry-red lips against his own when he closes his eyes. The soft, almost inaudible gasps and moans and unstifled whimpers which wrapped around Kurt's body like an orchestra, holding their bodies closer.

And each time he tells himself _no, never, not in a million years. You can't, _he tells himself, _you just can't. _But each time these words repeat like a broken record in his head he sees the image of Blaine's big, innocent, honey-hued eyes and feels his knees tremble with the desire to kiss him till he falls apart, to peel off his clothes and drop to his knees and give in. Give in to the rush of blood in his ears and the shake in his fingertips and the lust which slinks slowly up his spine, engulfing him.

All of this rushes in waves through Kurt as he cleans the apartment quickly and efficiently, crashing one after another, a storm beneath his skin. Trying his best to distract himself he sorts Cooper's clothes into lights and darks and forces the first load in to wash. He rips sheets of paper into bookmarks and closes all Cooper's books, paper sticking out at various places before they're all forced haphazardly onto the bookshelf. The rest of the papers he gathers and organises as best he can, stacking them in neat piles on the dining table for Cooper to sort through, before swiftly neatening the couch, the coffee table, wiping down the kitchen and washing up the mugs and glasses, bowl and plates which had accumulated beneath the papers.

When Kurt turns around the apartment looks significantly better, neater and more organised, easy to sort through. He just wishes his mind was the same.

Glancing at his watch he figures Cooper should ring Blaine soon, it starting to get late, especially with Blaine having his final exam the next day, and he knows that the longer he leaves Cooper the less likely he'll be to sleep later. And he doesn't much fancy waking up to the entire apartment wrecked again after Cooper pulls an all nighter. So somewhat reluctantly he wakes his roommate and presses his phone into his hand, muttering, "get up and make your brothers day," and watching as a smile lights up Cooper's face as dread runs cold in Kurt's blood.

/

So it's only three later that Kurt leaves the apartment mid day, walking quickly down the sun dappled streets of New York towards a tucked away coffee shop as he tries to work out what he's going to do with himself for a month. How is he going to distract himself from blushing, bemused, beautiful-eyed Blaine with his teenage hormones and already-kissed lips?

At first he decided to just leave, but he can't just go home to Ohio, not at such short notice, it would upset Cooper he tells himself, swearing that it's not an excuse. So instead he sits on the street with a strong coffee and a million thoughts as his eyes follow the plane tracks in the sky.

When he does finally go home late in the afternoon, hands in his pockets as if the fabric will hold them back, he walks in to the sound of only too familiar shared laughter in Coopers room. He can't distinguish one from the other, and for some reason this puts him on edge.

He crosses the living room, into the kitchen, deep breaths as he gets a glass of water. Just as he turns, leaning relaxed against the kitchen counter, Cooper's door opens and out emerges Blaine, crinkly eyed as he smiles at his brother over his shoulder.

And there's that second between him laughing and turning that Kurt uses to gauge any differences. He's maybe a tiny bit taller, a little longer and leaner but still shorter than Kurt, which he'll never admit he quite likes. His shoulders look strong beneath the stretched, thin fabric of his maroon t-shirt, the colour contrasting with his tanned, olivey, delicious looking skin. The muscles in his arms are a little thicker, wiry, defined and veiny and Kurt's mouth practically salivates with the desire to reach out and lick the long, toned strip of his forearm where the two muscles meet and dip into an inviting valley. His hands look much the same, broad and long fingered, wrists thick with that knot of bone jutting out prominently.

They're the physical differences, along with no doubt a dozen more which Kurt will never get to learn. But it's the things which remain the same which over ride the lust writhing like snakes in Kurt's stomach. It's the bark of his laughter and the pad of his feet along the floor, his weight behind them before he turns and his eyes find Kurt. He smiles that same half-smile, cocked up at one side and nervous on the other as he blushes a faint pink, hands finding each other, knotting a little before settling in his pockets. He mumbles, "hey Kurt," looking out at him through thick, long fans of lashes and Kurt feels his skins prickle and spark and flame beneath those eyes.

"Hey," he replies, voice steady while his heart thunders like a storm in his chest. He asks about his flight, his parents, school. And Blaine replies, polite and enthusiastic and slowly the atmosphere clears and Kurt's heart calms and the pink on Blaine's cheeks fades and melts away. And Cooper remains blissfully oblivious, finally dressed in his own clothes and considerably calmer now only one exam remains.

Afternoon soon leaks into evening as the city comes alive outside their window. And they sit, the three of them, sprawled on the L-shaped sofa, each with their own corner, Blaine in the middle as they eat take away and watch some awful film Cooper's chose. After finishing his food, Blaine pulls his legs up beneath him and shuffles down a little, propping his arm up on the back on the couch facing Cooper, cheek in his palm as he blinks and yawns and resolutely stays awake.

And out of the corner of his eye, over his box of noodles, Kurt watches the boy wriggle till comfortably, watches as his eyelashes flicker slowly against his cheekbones before they finally close and still. His cheek is crushed against his palm, fingers in his own hair as his sleep-slow body moves and stretches across the fabric. Kurt wonders briefly whether he's really sleeping, and realises his is when he hears the slower, shallower breaths he's taking, mouth open the tiniest degree.

So Kurt continues to watch covertly, flicking a look to Cooper every now and then to make sure he's not watching _him_watch his brother. But he isn't, his attention completely focused on the film, so Kurt keeps his eyes sneakily focused on Blaine. He watches the hard bones of his knees stretch the fabric of his tight jeans before his legs unfurl further, until the pale soles of his feet press against Kurt's thigh, cold and soft as his toes curl against Kurt's leg.

Kurt keeps very still, gripping the thin cardboard of the box in hand, chop sticks rigid between his fingers as his eyes follow the lines of spider web bones up Blaine's foot, intersected with pale, weaving blue veins. He can't help but stare, wanting to press his fingers along the bones, feel thin skin and pulsing blood beneath his fingertip. His eyes follow up to the exposed ankle, hem of his jeans turned up and the creases down his Achilles heel.

Then there's an explosion, loud and floor-shaking on the TV, causing Kurt to jump, Blaine to wake and Cooper to scramble for the remote to turn it down. Kurt's attention is now on Cooper, laughing at them jumping, chuckling and smiling at Kurt, while between them Blaine rubs his eyes and rolls onto his back. He half sits up against one of the sofa backs beside Cooper as he rotates his aching wrists and ankles, only then does he feel the warm, denim-rough press of Kurt against his feet. He yanks them back, glancing at Kurt, watching his eyes flicker down to the sudden movement before looking up at Blaine. "I- sorry, I was asleep," Blaine tries to explain, moving to push himself up properly from where he's sat perpendicular to Kurt.

But Kurt just smiles and laughs and speaks, "it's fine, you're cold," he finds himself saying as his right hand reaches out on it's own, gripping one of Blaine's feet in the warm cage of his hand, palm against the bones, fingers curling beneath the arch while Blaine looks up with startled eyes. "It's fine," he says again, pulling slightly until Blaine gives in and let's him tug his feet closer, tucking his ice cube toes beneath Kurt's thighs.

Instant warmth spreads through Blaine's body, and it's less to do with his feet actually being cold as it is to do with the slight weight of Kurt's thigh on him, hot and hard as Blaine's body, on instinct, presses closer until his feet slide completely beneath Kurt, trapped between rough denim and soft sofa cushion as his toes flex against the thick muscle.

Kurt shoots him a smile, before focusing back on the TV, picking at what's left of his food. Blaine watches his profile for a minute, the double curve of his lips and the slight point of his nose, the curve of his brow and the sharp-soft dips of his cheek bones. He watches his fingers, long and pale, skilfully yielding chop sticks and he just can't look away. It's only when his brother speaks that Blaine comes out of a daydream of Kurt's broad hands pressed against his shoulders, fingers trailing goose bumps down his spine.

"D'you want us to go so you can sleep?" Cooper asks, chucking his empty rice box onto the coffee table where it lands and tilts and spills, rice skittering across the surface, making Kurt groan and glare at him.

"Huh? No, no I'm fine," he reassures Cooper with a smile. But Cooper argues, as brothers do, and within minutes he's shooing Kurt off the couch, sending him to retrieve spare bedding while he unfolds the pull out sofa bed, Blaine still lying complaining in the corner.

"I'm not tired Coop!" Blaine whines over and over, kicking at his brother when he walks close enough. Kurt walks in then, blankets and pillows under his arms before he throws one at the back of Blaine's head, finally shutting him up. He scowls over his shoulder, petulant as Cooper drags him upright and pushes him into his bedroom with instructions to get changed.

Blaine glares but walks away, slamming the door as the sound of Kurt and Coopers mingled laughter swells and fills the apartment. Minutes later he's shuffling out, embarrassed in his too long sweatpants and vest top, arms protective around his waist as his eyes take in the now dark living room and his makeshift bed.

"G'night B," Cooper says from beside him, making him jump before he turns and sees his eyes in the darkness.

"Night," Blaine says back, smiling as his brother pulls him into a hug.

"Happy early birthday," Cooper says through a grin, a wink amongst the blackness of night.

Blaine laughs, thanks him again and says "I can't believe I'm here."

"I always promised," Cooper replies before disappearing into his room, the door closing gently in the silence as Blaine smiles and crawls into his bed, his first night in New York, a dream he's had since his brother left for college three years previous.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Hi guys! Chapters are starting to reach reasonable lengths now the sort of, build up is out of the way. So yay for that I guess? Anyway, just a massive thank you to those of you reviewing, I love hearing from you :) and to everyone alerting/favouriting, I hope you're enjoying it too :) **

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In the morning Kurt wakes first, as usual, despite having no reason to be up early. He pads silently out of his room, clothes folded neatly over one arm, and glances into the living room. Over the side of the couch he can see just an undistinguishable lump of blankets, a foot poking out one side, and he can't help but smile as he walks more fully into the room. He can hear the rasp of breath through a dry throat as he nears the couch, step by step before into view comes a hand, tanned and curled against the light blue blankets, a wide wrist, long, thickening forearm and the delicate crook of an elbow. Then muscled bicep, paler on the inside, exposed right up to broad, practically bare shoulders and the dip and sharp jut of a collarbone where Blaine rests on his side.

Kurt looks at the boys face, peaceful and blank and undeniably gorgeous in the bright, startling light of morning. His hair is a little longer than Kurt remembers, curly and spread against the pillow in knots which Kurt wants to unknot, his fingers buried amongst them. His body is swathed waist deep beneath various blankets, his face pressed against the pillow.

Kurt smiles to himself as he watches the gentle balloon of his chest, a little snuffle as he shuffles against the fabric, smacking his lips in his sleep. He watches one last breath and then turns on his heel and disappears in to the bathroom, before temptation lures him closer.

When he comes out, dressed for the day he avoids looking at the couch and crosses straight to the kitchen, keeping, maybe not really, as quiet as possible as he makes coffee, before turning and leaning back. From this angle, over the other back of the couch he can quite clearly see Blaine, his back to Kurt before he inevitably wakes after the clatter of cups and grind of the coffee machine.

First he rolls over, onto his back, stretching like a cat in the sun as a yawn rips through his body, blankets caught around his hips as Kurt watches the concave dip of his stomach as his body stretches and wakes and breaths. His eye blink open in the sun before slamming shut as he rolls again, away from the window, facing Kurt unintentionally as he licks his dry lips and finally, achingly slowly opens his eyes and sees, to his surprise, Kurt watching him from a distance over a steaming mug with a smile creasing his eyes.

Blaine groans and blinks a few more times before meeting Kurt's smile with a groggy smile of his own, one side of his face red from the pillow. "Stop watching me," is his morning greeting, and he feels satisfaction grow in his stomach when Kurt laughs, replaced by a warm hum of pleasure when he doesn't deny that he'd been watching.

Instead Kurt just turns and swills his cup, smiling unexplainably to himself before the groan of Cooper's door disturbs the strange, but pleasantly awkward silence. Kurt greets him, as he does every morning, and earns a grunt and absent hand motion, as he does every morning. Blaine sits up and stretches again, shoulder blades like wings as he scratches his back, before shuffling to the edge and standing. Kurt watches as he hitches his sweats up a little from where they were hanging low on his narrow hips, and secretly wishes he hadn't. He would've quite liked to watch the movement of sharp hip bones beneath stretched, supple, sleep-warm skin.

Blaine wanders into the kitchen, next to his brother, who hands him a coffee with a grunt and a brotherly whack before disappearing into the bathroom, own cup in hand as he rubs his eyes.

"He still takes his coffee with him when he showers?" Blaine asks reminiscently.

"Always," Kurt replies, equally reminiscent as he shakes his head.

They laugh together, shaking their heads as the awkward atmosphere slinks away, until they're just them, stood laughing at Cooper like they have a hundred times before. Kurt asks what he'd like to eat before fixing them both some breakfast, sat side by side while Blaine shares stories of his glee clubs success in various competitions, his eyes lighting up with remembered excitement. He talks about the boys in his club, Wes and Thad and David, Nick, Trent, Seb. Kurt's ears perk up at that last name, but before a real thought can be formed Cooper emerges, clean shaven and chirpy, dressed in the clothes Kurt had washed for him a few days ago. He bounds up to the fridge and eats a chunk of cheese before speaking with his mouth full, "phone please Blaine?" he demands, holding his hand out and chucking another chunk in his mouth.

"What?" Blaine asks, startled.

"Phone, gimme your phone," Cooper repeats, flexing his fingers to emphasise his point.

"What for?" Blaine asks, face scrunching in confusion.

"Just give me your friggin' phone. Don't worry, I'm not going to look through your pictures or anything," Cooper teases with a coy, knowing wink. Blaine huffs and slides off the stool, dragging his feet over to the coffee table where his phone sits, avoiding eye contact, but Kurt doesn't miss the way his cheeks flame red.

Blaine brings it over, eying his brother suspiciously before sliding it into his waiting palm. Cooper thanks him sarcastically, before swiftly unlocking it, eating more cheese as he does so.

"You've got a text," he says absently, flashing the screen towards Blaine, just in time for Kurt to make out the name 'Sebastian'. Blaine groans and goes to take the phone but Cooper just angles away, his fingers moving swiftly over the screen as he talks. "I thought you dumped him?" he asks, eyes flicking untrusting to his brothers.

"I did, can I have it back?" Blaine replies a little grumpily, moving to snatch the phone again.

Cooper bats at his grabby hands playfully before with a final few rapid taps be hands it over. "Why's he texting you then?" he asks as Blaine opens the text, just as Kurt's mind asks the same. They both watch as confusion sweeps over Blaine's face, followed swiftly by agitation as he moodily taps out a reply with a groan. "What's he want?" Cooper asks more sternly.

"Huh? Nothing, he says he's coming to New York next week and do I want to meet up..." Blaine trails off, thumbs a blur as he replies.

"And you're saying...?" Cooper asks, widening his eyes in question when Blaine finally looks up.

"I've said I'm too busy, obviously. I told you I don't, y'know," he shrugs glancing from his brother to Kurt who's sat silent beside Cooper, watching and stoically keeping his expression neutral. "I told you I don't like him anymore," Blaine finally admits to Cooper.

Cooper hums, already suspicious of this Sebastian kid for not getting the message. "Okay. Well, if he doesn't leave you alone I want you to tell me," he tells him, in a good impression of their father.

Blaine laughs a little hollowly before replying, "yeah, right, because I can't handle this," he says with an eye roll and sarcastic edge to his voice. "He's just a friend," he says as Cooper face distorts into disbelief.

Cooper snorts, "yeah, a friend who wants to fuck you," he says, no hint of laughter in his voice.

But Blaine argues back with all the self righteousness of a teenager who thinks he's right, "Sebastian does not want to fuck me! We broke up and that's that," he says defiantly, frowning and pursing his lips.

But Cooper just raises an eyebrow, and Kurt has to bite his lip to hold back a smile at the brothers arguing, despite the fist of jealousy clenching his stomach with all the talk of this Sebastian, as well as the unfounded urge to protect Blaine.

"Blaine," Cooper begins, voice suddenly that of a wise old man, "trust me," he holds Blaine's shoulders in his hands and looks him dead in the eye, "I know teenage boys. And _that_teenage boy," he nods at the phone held loosely in Blaine's hand, "wants to fuck," he finishes, patting his brother condescendingly on the cheek, causing Blaine to scowl and jerk away, eyes flicking down as his phone vibrates with a new text.

Blaine ignores Cooper as best he can and slides onto the stool beside Kurt, reading his new message with a frown before, without replying, he places his phone face down on the counter. Kurt shoots him what he hopes is a reassuring smile before Cooper interrupts again, ever filling the stereotype of the annoying older brother.

"Anyway," he says with a dramatic swoop of his hands, eyes still on Blaine, "I've put Kurt's number in your phone, so if you get lost or in trouble or whatever, and can't get me, call Kurt." Blaine glances at Kurt, questioning, but Kurt just shrugs and stands to clear their plates. "Okay, I've gotta get to college. You," he says, pointing at Blaine, "behave yourself and don't go on any secret rendezvous with horny warblers, and you," his hand swivels to Kurt, "don't forget to ring your dad like you promised him you would," he finishes before grabbing his coat, shrugging it on.

"Wait you- you're still at college?" Blaine asks as he makes his way over to Cooper in the middle of the apartment, looking completely lost in his too long sweats.

"Yeah, only for this week though, one more exam and then I'm all yours," Cooper promises, ruffling Blaine's hair like always.

"What am I supposed to do this week then?" Blaine asks moodily, brow furrowing as he shouts towards Cooper where he's stood in the doorway.

Cooper shrugs, "sorry Blaine, when I booked the flights I didn't think I'd have an exam this late" he apologises. "But you could check out the colleges here you're interested in, and then we can do whatever you want when I'm done, okay?" he asks from the doorway,

"I- yeah, yeah that's great," Blaine concedes, figuring it's useless to argue, and his brothers exams are more important than him being bored for a week, "see you later Coop," he says, waving weakly as his brother disappears.

He stands still for a minute, looking smaller than usual in his pyjamas in the middle of an empty room. Kurt watches him conspicuously, tilting his head at the expression of complete abandonment and confusion on his face. "You alright?" he eventually asks.

Blaine jumps and swivels round, having completely forgotten he wasn't alone. "Huh? Oh yeah, yeah I'm fine," he says with an attempt at a smile, feeling his heart flutter pleasantly when he looks at Kurt.

"You sure? You look kinda... lost," Kurt finishes as Blaine wanders back over to the kitchen, leaning back against the counter facing Kurt.

Blaine shrugs, eyes flicking to his phone still face down on the counter top, "just thinking about what Coop said," he eventually admits, not meeting Kurt's concerned expression.

"About that guy?" Kurt asks instantly, an unjustified flare of protectiveness filling his body. But Blaine just nods and sighs and smiles Kurt's favourite half-smile, his eyes a hundred shades of green and gold. Kurt sighs and crosses to Blaine, smiling down at the confused looking boy before speaking, "Cooper just likes being dramatic, the kids probably just upset you broke up with him," Kurt says, unable to resist the urge to press his fingers delicately along Blaine hairline, tucking a curl behind his hair, "cant blame him really," he admits, watching Blaine's eyes fall shut beneath his touch, his breath hitch, lips parting.

And then Kurt's gone, sliding past him, bare arms grazing as electricity sparks beneath their skin and Blaine practically moans when his heat disappears. "We did stuff," Blaine whispers as Kurt crosses the room. He hears him stop, feels him turn and stare before Blaine builds the courage to turn and do the same. He can't read Kurt expression, but he doesn't look happy, so Blaine quickly corrects himself, "I don't mean like- not proper- not... y'know" he blushes and looks away, while on the other side of the room Kurt's entire body slumps in relief.

And then Kurt laughs, nervously, trying to clear the quickly thickening atmosphere, "yeah, I'm familiar with 'yknow'" he jokes, watching in adoration as Blaine's pink cheeks turn red, before he glances up and meets Kurt's eye. And then they're both laughing, at the awkwardness and the conversation and the feelings bubbling and boiling beneath their skin. But Kurt powers on, wanting to hear exactly what Blaine did with this other boy. "So… what? You- you jerked each other off?" Blaine shakes his head, staring at his feet, "you blew each other?" Kurt asks, biting his cheek to stop himself imagining doing these things to Blaine, or Blaine doing these things to him.

Blaine doesn't shake his head at that, and Kurt's stomach turns with jealousy as he admits in a whisper, "kinda."

"How can you 'kinda' blow someone?" he asks, a little sharper than strictly necessary.

But Blaine just laughs, scratches the back of his head and speaks, "er no, I just meant, I didn't actually, er," his eyes find Kurt's before he blinks away in embarrassment, "partake in any blowing," he concludes.

And without skipping a beat Kurt replies, laughter in his voice as a strange relief floods through him, "ahh, so you were the blowed, not the blower,"

Blaine laughs nervously, eyes on the floor as unbeknown to him Kurt crosses the room to him, "I guess," he says. Then suddenly his line of site is filled with two pairs of feet, his breath hitching as a finger hooks under his chin and tilts his face up. He's met with blinding blue eyes and a smile that makes his heart stop, creamy, unblemished skin and a solid body less than a foot from his own.

"Aww," Kurt coos, eyes flickering down to Blaine's lips which have fallen slightly open in surprise, "look at you," he says wistfully, holding Blaine's chin, thumb lifting to trace his lips, eyes following the path teasingly slowly. "Not three months ago you hadn't been kissed. And now you've been kissed _and_blown," he says, eyes flicking fast up to Blaine's, just in time to see his pupils explode and grow, unfathomably black before indignation swells in his chest.

He rolls his face out of Kurt's grasp, taking him by surprise before he fights back, wanting to taunt Kurt like he's taunting him. "I heard you, that night, with that guy. When Coop walked in I was on the phone," he says in a rush, words jumbled and tripping over each other.

Kurt's eyes widen, hand drops, heart pounds as one syllable escapes his lips, "oh." He looks away, takes a step back, and feels Blaine watching him.

"Yeah," the younger boy finally admits, voice steadier. He watches Kurt look away, the flicker of his eyelashes when he blinks and the pink of his tongue when he licks his lips. And then he's speaking, admitting to Kurt the truth, "that's er, kind of why I let him." Kurt eyes dart back to his, eyebrows lifting in surprise and confusion. "I mean, I didn't mean- just… you sounded like you were enjoying yourself" Blaine tries to explain.

Kurt cocks his head, taking in Blaine's awkward stance and nervousness in his eyes, "and you didn't?" he eventually asks.

Blaine stutters when he answers, "I- no- yeah! I mean, yeah, there was a mouth on my dick right, what's not to enjoy?" he laughs timidly and earns a chuckle from Kurt. "I just meant, it wasn't as- as great as I think I imagined after- after hearing you," he shrugs a little and looks away again, asking himself why the fuck he's having this conversation.

"I can't believe were having this conversation" Kurt then says aloud, reading Blaine's mind and rubbing his forehead as he watches Blaine watch his own hands, ringing nervously in front of him. He watches the muscles move in his arms, right from his shoulders down to the bones in his hands, before he whispers under his breath.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you," Blaine breaths, and if Kurt wasn't standing so close he wouldn't've heard.

But he did hear. He heard it as clear as a bell and holds back a moan as he feels blood rush south. "You… what?" he manages to ask, hoping and praying he's heard wrong, and then promising his soul to the devil to have heard right.

Blaine swallows and bites his lip, "when he was..." his eyes flicker down, as if Kurt wasn't clear on the subject of discussion, "I kept thinking about you, when you- you kissed me and…" he admits and trails off, and Kurt has to grip the counter beside him to stop himself just crumpling with desire. And then Blaine's speaking again, holding his attention as his body trembles. "And I was trying to think of him but I kept seeing your face and- and remembering- and yeah," he looks up then, eyes locking, pupils still blown black. "I haven't stopped thinking about you since Easter, since you drove away and all I wanted to do was kiss you again," Blaine finally finishes, and Kurt watches as his hands tremble between their too-close bodies.

"You thought about me when...?" is all Kurt can say though, heard thundering as he bites his cheek, the only way to stop himself moving forward and sucking the sinful stretch of Blaine's shoulder muscles.

"I- yes. I'm sorry. That's so creepy. I'm so sorry- oh god," Blaine's muttering, burying his face in his hands, body coiled tight like a trap as he scolds himself.

But Kurt just laughs, taking his wrists and pulling them from his face as he speaks "sh sh sh, it's fine," he reassures him. Blaine looks up at him, and suddenly they're so much closer, Blaine's head angled upwards, Kurt's neck bowed as he breathes in sharply through his nose. He exhales through his mouth, warm breath skittering over Blaine's bitten-red lips as his eyes widen. "You want me to kiss you don't you?" Kurt asks, a secret between their almost touching lips, and Blaine's eyes flicker closed then open on instinct, a moan of confirmation in his throat as one of Kurt's hands settles on his hip. Kurt can feel his skin between his sweats and tank; warm and hard over bone, before Blaine nods and pleads with them honey gold eyes.

So Kurt leans forward, breathing him in, feeling long, spider leg eyelashes creep over his cheek before their lips meet. It's soft and silent and a million sins as Blaine hands shakily find Kurt, fisting his shirt, dragging their bodies closer, moaning and opening his mouth like an invite. Kurt dips his tongue in, tasting coffee and boy and moans shamefully loudly as the taste, pushing closer, both hands on Blaine hips, hot and hard beneath his hands as he backs him up while Blaine's hands wind upwards, around his neck, into his hair. He tugs gently, head angling for deeper and feeling as Kurt trembles beneath his inexperienced touch. And then his back hits a wall, solid and cold before Kurt presses his body against him, solid and burning hot and _so_ strong as Blaine gasps.

Kurt smiles against his lips, nipping at his bottom lip, dragging it between his teeth as he opens his eyes. He watches in awe as his never-been-touched boy, as Blaine will always be to him, falls apart beneath his mouth, gripping and groaning and giving everything he's got, offering himself as he leans back and blinks and smiles, mouth open with ragged breaths. Kurt's hand moves from one hip, sliding under the fabric of Blaine's top, over the warm, convulsing muscles of his stomach as he presses forward again, teeth sinking into that summer-golden skin down Blaine neck as the boy bucks and writhes beneath him. His hard cock rubs the top of Kurt's thigh and his head falls back with a hollow thump and a whine so unrestrained that Kurt presses forward, rubbing his thigh against him harder, sucking his salty neck and nipping along his jaw until he finds his lips.

Blaine opens his mouth with a groan and rolls his hips forward, feeling heat coil and burn and grow up his spine with each press before his body slots perfectly against Kurt's, pressed head to toe, flush together, and for the first time he feels Kurt hard and heavy against his hip. He jerks back on instinct and looks down, the bulge in Kurt's jeans unmistakeable as Kurt moves to pepper kisses and licks down the other side of Blaine's neck, hands having wound round to the small of Blaine's back, arcing him forward and he rolls his hips against him in a dizzying rhythm of friction and too hot touches.

"You-your..." Blaine mumbles, unable to take his eyes off the hard, constricted outline of Kurt's cock. But when he does he looks up at Kurt's face, the older man just continues to paint his neck in kisses and bites, pupils blown black and lips kissed red, curled into a sinful grin against his soon-to-be-bruised neck. "Because of me?" Blaine asks, feeling strangely proud for making a guy like Kurt hard.

"Mmm," Kurt just hums back, detaching his lips from Blaine's skin to look down at their pressed together bodies, still apart from the drag of harsh breathing. Blaine stares up, watching Kurt's face, lips parted as he stares down, eyes flicking to Blaine's as he moves impossibly closer, dipping an inch, angling their bodies until his cock lines up with Blaine's, thrusting forward and ripping a moan from Blaine as his head falls back and hands grip tight to Kurt's neck, watching a satisfied smirk decorate his face.

"Oh fuck" is all Blaine manages to say as for the first time in his life his hands twitch to touch, to slide down Kurt's lithe, endless torso and wrap his virgin fingers around a cock other than his own.

"Always because of you," Kurt whispers throatily, one hand moving to rest beside Blaine's head as the other dips the tips of his fingers beneath the hem of his sweats, feeling him rock and moan and want beneath him. "Since Easter, every fucking time," Kurt admits against his skin as he bites hard and Blaine screams in pain and pleasure and pleads.

"God, oh fuck, Kurt- I'm gonna-" he gasps between moans and heaving breaths, hands fisting Kurt's hair and untouched body pressing for more than it can take.

"Don't," is all Kurt says before he takes the smallest step back. "Not yet," he says, watching Blaine nod shakily before his other hand snakes down his spine over thin fabric, settling beside the other on the curve of Blaine's ass, dipping his fingers beneath his boxers and feeling the boy groan before he sucks the noise straight from his lips, tasting of impatience and lust.

The kiss is short and definitely not sweet as their tongues slide and suck and their teeth bite before Kurt steps back more fully, Blaine feeling a chill wash over his burning skin, eyes trained confused on Kurt. And then Kurt drops to his knees, a hollow thump against the wood, hands still dipped an inch beneath the fabric of Blaine's sweats.

"What're you-" Blaine begins to ask before Kurt shuffles forward, hands swiftly sliding round to ruck up his tank, lips pressing wet and hard against the curve of Blaine's stomach as the boys body shudders and thrusts and his head tips back and he whimpers as realisation sets in. "Kurt- I'm not- I'm not gonna last-"

"I don't expect you too," Kurt says cockily, smirking up through his eyelashes as his thumbs massage the muscles of his hips before dipping, following their line down, beneath his sweats and boxers as his lips find Blaine skin again. He slides his hands round, dipping completely in and squeezing the bare, round globes of Blaine's ass as he arcs against the wall, hands grappling for purchase on Kurt's shoulders, steadying himself as Kurt slowly pushes down his sweats and boxers. First over the curve of his ass before unhooking the fabric from his painfully hard cock, down to mid thigh as Kurt groans and licks his lips, now face to face with the object of his obsession. "You're gorgeous," he can't help but whisper, kissing his left hip and glancing up to see Blaine staring down, completely wrecked and desperate and shaking his head.

"I-I-" Blaine tries to speak, tries to argue, but Kurt's on his knees between his thighs, licking his lips at he looks at his cock, hands burning brands into his thighs, and Blaine can barely breath, let alone form words. And he's been so hard for so long and he's never wanted like this before, he's never needed someone like be needs Kurt right now, so when he feels that first puff of hot breath against his cock he almost comes without being touched.

And then he looks down, just in time to see Kurt suck his pink, bruised lips into his mouth, wetting them before slowly closing them around just the head of Blaine's cock, sucking and licking and tasting as Blaine's skin tears and blisters and burns as his heart tries to leap from his chest and his blood absolutely boils. His hips thrust on their own, garnering an inch of friction and that's enough for Blaine's hands to knot in Kurt's hair and just cling on, holding him there.

He's about to apologise, but Kurt just stares up and smiles around the cock in his mouth, and if that isn't the most glorious sight in the world Blaine doesn't know what is. And then Kurt's sucking and sliding and slipping his mouth completely over Blaine, taking all of him until his nose hits the hairs at the base and Blaine literally screams and thrusts and thrashes but Kurt takes it. The hands in his hair hold him there before Kurt pulls back slowly, tonguing the base and the slit before slipping down quicker, building up a wet, dirty, bobbing rhythm as he works his throat around Blaine, swallowing and moaning and feeling as the vibrations unfurl up Blaine's spine, right down to his tensing fingers in Kurt's hair and the curling toes either side of his knees.

"I'm gonna- shit- Kurt! Fuck," Blaine moans, curses parenthesis around Kurt's name as he sucks harder, the hands in his hair tugging, a warning, but Kurt doesn't want to be warned. So Blaine trembles and whimpers and convulses, until with two final, deep throated sucks and swallows and moans Blaine comes hot and fast down Kurt's throat, cock twitching between his lips as he body breaks and arcs and screams as he falls apart. Holding Kurt still by his hair as he bucks into his mouth, watching the stretched, abused red skin of Kurt's lips work over him with a final moan.

He pulls out a second later and literally falls, sliding down the wall until he's splayed and wrecked and gorgeous in front of Kurt, who swallows the come in his mouth and slinks over the boy's sated, sex-supple body. He stares down at him for a moment, the ragged scratch of his breathing and the shaking of his hands on the floor. Kurt presses a warm palm against his exposed stomach, and when Blaine doesn't flinch he slides it up, beneath the fabric to rest splayed over his thumping, storming heart, pounding a million beats a minute, his entire body trembling with endorphins.

Blaine's eyes finally slide slowly open, revealing honey-hued irises, smiling blissfully up before he cranes his neck a little. Kurt obliges as leans down, sliding their lips together, warm and wet and tasting of Blaine. It's slow and languorous, Kurt releasing Blaine's heart to tangle his hand in his hair like he's wanted to for months, before they both pull back, Blaine's head falling against the wall as his eyes close again. Kurt watches in amazement as his favourite half smile curls his favourite lips, before his touched-boys eyes open, words leaking from his lips in a haze, "that was... you're... fuck," he finally concedes dragging Kurt's body over his again, a hot blanket over his already sweltering body.

Kurt laughs and obliges and kisses him again, allowing him to slowly lick the taste of himself from his mouth as Kurt unintentionally rubs his still achingly hard, denim restrained cock against Blaine's bare thigh.

Blaine pulls back from Kurt's lips with a wet smack, eyes darting down, "you're still- sorry," he apologises, meeting Kurt's eye, "I should..." he trails off hesitantly, suddenly shy and nervous about touching Kurt, hands falling shakily against the mans hips.

But Kurt notices his hesitancy and smiles, pressing a final kiss to his head before leaning back onto his knees. "Don't worry about me," he promises, watching the panic fade from Blaine's eyes and telling himself not to be too disappointed, he is young and woefully inexperienced after all.

"no, I- it's only fair," ever polite Blaine says, still half naked on the floor.

But Kurt just laughs, "honestly I'm fine," he repeats standing and dragging the weak kneed boy up with him, "that wasn't about me," Kurt says, rearranging himself to slightly relieve the pressure, not missing the way Blaine watches his movements, "that's was about giving you a blowjob that lives up to how you imagined."

Blaine blushes and pulls his boxer and sweats back up, smiling bashfully up at Kurt before speaking, "that was better than anything I've ever imagined," he says truthfully with a laugh. "I didn't even know it- it could feel that good," he admits, hand reaching awkwardly to hold Kurt's, shrugging like he had months ago, a habit Kurt hadn't realised he missed.

"Good," Kurt smiles, leaning forward to kiss his hairline, the corner of his eye, his cheek, before settling on his lips, feeling his chest swell with a strange feeling of contentment as Blaine's smell washes over him, the warm press of their palms together. "Now, you go shower and get dressed, I'll wait for you here," he says, nudging him towards the bathroom.

"Why? What's happening?" Blaine asks; voice a mixture of excitement and trepidation.

"Do you really think I'm going to leave you alone and bored here all day? You're coming to enjoy New York with me."

Blaine smiles so wide and honest and beautiful that it takes Kurt's breath away, before he tiptoes and presses a final, dry, not-enough kiss to Kurt's lips before disappearing into the bathroom, face still split in half by his smile.


	10. Chapter 10

The day passes in a haze of a hundred smile and a thousand words, a million touches and infinite secret thoughts.

They don't really do anything special, just dot in and out of the occasional shop and wander the streets of New York with conversation flowing between them, mostly comfortable, sinking into occasional awkwardness when a silence stretches a moment too long, when finger touch unintentionally between their already overly aware bodies.

But eventually, somewhere after what feels like the five hundredth supposedly unintentional knuckle graze on Blaine's part, Kurt sighs over dramatically and makes a point of touching the thin skin of Blaine's inner wrist, stretching his fingers wide; an invitation. Blaine stares down, not looking where he's walking as his eyes focus on the palm offered to him. He glances quickly up at Kurt, who's staring down at him, smiling timidly. And Blaine smiles back, that impossibly wide smile that Kurt's quickly learning is a permanent fixture to his face, before opening his own palm and sliding them together.

Their fingers lace, fitting together easily and earning an almost silent little hum of pleasure from Blaine, feeling as Kurt's warmth spreads through his body from the point of contact. He begins to lightly swing their hands between them, watching them sweep through the air, the streets of New York City passing beneath them, and he just can't stop smiling. He's actually walking through the city he's always dreamt of, with a man holding his hand, a man he couldn't have dreamt up in a million years. This sudden realisation makes happiness swell so rapidly in his chest that it actually hurts.

"Stop that," Kurt says after a minute, stopping their hands mid swing and dropping them down between their bodies, still but for the natural movement of their bodies as they walk.

Blaine glances up, a little hurt, watching the profile of Kurt's face as he stares ahead. "Sorry," he murmurs, loosening his tight grip a little, his smile faltering.

Kurt quickly looks down, feeling his heart drop at the dejected look on Blaine's face, the no longer clinging feel of his hand against his own. "Hey, I didn't mean that like-" he hesitates, wondering how to say what he's thinking. "I meant that in a stop-being-so-impossibly-adorable sort of way, not a… not a stop-being-_you_ sort of way," he tries to explain.

"Sorry, I just- I'm kind of excited I guess," Blaine explains, dropping his head to hide his smile, repeating the words 'impossibly adorable' over and over in his head.

"I know," Kurt says as he guides Blaine in front of him, avoiding a large group of tourists coming towards them, detangling their hands to plant his firmly on Blaine's hips, steering him through the crowd. "I can tell," he whispers, leaning forward to ghost his breath over the younger boy's ear, squeezing the hard bones beneath his palms.

He hears Blaine's breath stutter, his body pressing back a little as they walk, wanting to feel the solidity of Kurt along his spine. Blaine grins up at him over his shoulder, blushing when Kurt meets his smile. And then suddenly Kurt's guiding him back to his side, taking his hand and steering them around a sudden corner, dragging Blaine behind him as he pushes the door open to a small coffee shop.

Kurt pays for their coffee, waving Blaine off when he gets his own wallet out, instructing him to find them a table instead. So he picks a table by the window and sits, staring with a smile on his face out at the rush of life on the other side of the glass. He's not sure where they are, not far from the apartment, but no where recognisable to a non New Yorker. But the city is still achingly beautiful.

He watches people pass by and creates intricate stories in his head about them, a game him and Cooper used to play. There's the woman who's having an affair, the single parent, the runaway. There's the struggling artist and the successful business man and the free spirit. He maps out stories for each of them in his mind and watches as they walk, one step after another before they disappear into the crowd, into the sea of people, swallowed whole by the city as their story becomes just another mystery.

Before long though Kurt's sliding in across from him, stealing the spotlight as he hands a cup to Blaine over the table, following his previous line of sight to stare out the window.

"What're you staring at?" Kurt asks, eyes scanning the street outside where Blaine had been looking.

But Blaine just shrugs and smiles and sinks his eyes to the table, hands wrapping around the cup, unable to stop himself wondering about _Kurt's_ story, what's made him who he is and how he's got here. Why he's here. He knows the facts but he wants to know the intricacies. He wants to know the reason behind Kurt's coffee order. He wants to know why Kurt occasionally smiles, small and delicate and hidden, to himself when he doesn't know anyone's looking. He wants to know why all the cups have to face the same way in the apartment, but most of all he wants to know the stories held in Kurt's fingertips and the secrets hidden in his eyes.

When Blaine looks back up Kurt's still staring outside, half his face illuminated by the sunlight, his neck stretched tight and pale and long. Blaine watches the curve of his lips as he takes a tentative sip of his too-hot coffee before he turns, attention focusing back on Blaine when he doesn't reply.

"Nothing," Blaine eventually says, still smiling a little, ducking his head to test the temperature of his drink against his lips, the strong aroma filling his brain as Kurt returns his smile through the steam of his own drink.

"So, what're you planning to do with your month in the Big Apple?" Kurt asks conversationally, and that's all it takes for the potential awkwardness of the situation to slink away, taking with it Blaine's thoughts as they're replaced with his overly enthusiastic voice, mingling with the warmth of the cup seeping through Kurt's palms, making his entire body thrum with second hand heat.

He lets Blaine talk long after their cups have emptied, interjecting every so often with ideas or stories of his own, laughing when Blaine laughs, inwardly crooning when he becomes particularly excited, rolling his eyes occasionally which earns him playful kicks under the table.

Eventually they leave and begin walking back to the apartment, Blaine once again accidentally-on-purpose bumping their shoulders and hands, obviously thinking he's being a lot more subtle. But Kurt just hides his smile and takes his hand, feeling him shuffle a little closer, the gentle pressure of his thumb rubbing over the knuckle of his own.

As they walk Kurt's mind works at a million miles an hour, tripping over stray thoughts, letting his imagination run wild, the occasional steady swipe of Blaine's thumb on his knuckle like a metronome as they walk. And all of a sudden his throat is dry; constricted. Blaine's touch feels all at once too hot, and not in a good way, making his palm itch to pull away. When they begin to near the building, Kurt discretely removes his hand from Blaine's, making to find his keys, completely missing the small frown which creases the younger boys brow. But by the time Kurt turns back around Blaine is just smiling again, as usual, choosing to ignore the little spike of hurt which flares in his chest.

When they get in Kurt begins dinner in near silence, shooing Blaine away when he hovers around, trying to help. "Just go and watch TV or call your parents or something, honestly, I'm fine doing this alone," he says, smiling tightly before turning back to the counter.

"But I- I want to help…" Blaine trails off quietly, watching the swift movement of Kurt's hands as he dices vegetables.

"Honestly, I'm fine," Kurt repeats, glancing to his left where Blaine is leant, looking downcast. He drops the knife in his hand with a sharp clatter before turning to properly face Blaine, "okay, spit it out, what's wrong?" he asks, voice maybe a little too sharp.

Blaine's head snaps up, expression confused. "Are you… mad at me or something?" he asks, dragging his bottom lip between his teeth, a gesture which doesn't go unnoticed by Kurt.

"No, I'm not mad. Why would I be mad?" Kurt says all at once.

"I dunno, you just, we were fine and then," Blaine shrugs mid sentence, a gesture which floods Kurt's mind with so many memories of the exact same shrug, and suddenly he feels as all his unexplainable fear dissolves before Blaine's even finished speaking, "you've pushed me away all of a sudden," he finishes, avoiding Kurt's eyes and focusing on the hardwood floor.

And because of this he doesn't see the gentle slump of Kurt's shoulders, the long breath he releases or the way his eyes soften around the edges. But he does see as Kurt's arms rise either side of him and drag him into a hug, and instantly his body relaxes into the feel of Kurt's, an odd sense of calm washing over him.

"Sorry," Kurt murmurs into his hair, "walking back I just sort of remembered the fact that you're my best friends little brother and I sucked your dick this morning. I had a bit of an internal panic attack," Kurt explains, trying to laugh while still panicking a little.

Blaine snorts into Kurt's shoulder, his body shaking as he laughs before pulling back and looking up at Kurt. "Are you still panicking?" Blaine asks with a smile, but a serious edge to his voice.

"No I… okay yeah I'm still panicking. I mean, it was bad enough in Ohio when I- when we kissed but now… Coop would literally kill me," Kurt tries to explain.

"Well, I mean… It's not like I'm going to _tell _Cooper," Blaine says, "if that makes you feel any better?"

"I- yeah, yeah, I'm just being overly dramatic," Kurt assures him, rubbing a hand down his own face.

"And I guess- I mean, it's not like- like anything else has to- is going to happen? I mean, just…" Blaine trails off nervously, his heart picking up speed in his chest, because _fuck, _he wants more to happen. He wants a lot more to happen, even if it's just stolen kisses and hand holding, he can't stop himself from wanting those things. But if it's going to make Kurt uncomfortable, he's more than willing to _not _want those things. Or to tell himself that.

"Do you _want _anything else to happen?" Kurt asks then, his eyes searching Blaine's, who just stares up blankly, eyebrows raised and internally screaming 'yes' at the top of his lungs.

"I… do _you_?" he asks tactfully, not very subtly diverting the attention away from himself.

Kurt laughs loudly at his awful diversion, clamping a hand over his mouth to hold in the noise he's just made. But that just makes Blaine's face split into his trademark grin, laughter erupting from his body, and for a moment they just stand and laugh at each other and the situation and especially the conversation.

Then in the distance they hear the sound of the front door slamming shut, followed not long after by Cooper appearing in the doorway, no doubt having heard their laughter, because he too has a massive grin on his face. "Whatcha laughing at?" he asks cheerfully as he drops his bag by the door and slides into a seat at the breakfast bar, leaning down on his arms and watching Kurt and Blaine with a curious expression.

"Nothing, nothing," Kurt assures him, turning back to the vegetables he was dicing, "we were just talking about that time you streaked down the street for 20 bucks," Kurt says off the top of his head.

This makes Blaine laugh louder again, and Kurt turns just in time to catch his eye, sharing a small smile while Cooper mutters, "oh yeah," wistfully behind them, staring into the distance as if reminiscing. "So…" he says after a short pause, "what did you do today?" he asks his brother.

"Oh, I er-" Blaine begins nervously, something Kurt quickly picks up on before happily taking over for him.

"Blaine and I just went out for a bit, just shown him around the neighbourhood, got coffee," he explains, his back still to Cooper.

"Eurgh," Cooper groans, "did he make you go shopping and carry all his bags?" he asks Blaine seriously, "he _always _does that to me, and then he thinks buying me a pretzel will make up for it. Which it really, _really _doesn't by the way Kurt," Cooper finishes, shaking his head at Blaine in disapproval.

"Cooper, I have never once _made _you come shopping with me. You tend to just complain when I don't invite you and then bully me into letting you come," Kurt says, shooting a scowl over his shoulder. "And stop sitting there being a useless lump and come and help me," he adds, earning a louder groan, followed by the pad of feet across wood.

Cooper walks around the counter and into the kitchen, throwing an arm around Blaine's shoulder and ruffling his hair playfully, making Blaine complain and pinch at his waist. "Set me to work Captain," he says to Kurt, when Kurt turns around he salutes exaggeratedly and accidentally knocks over a fruit bowl, oranges and apples scattering over the counter and bouncing off onto the floor.

Kurt raises a disdainful eyebrow at the brothers, both of whom are failing to hide their smiles, before he huffs and turns his back on them, continuing with dinner. He listens as they shuffle to retrieve the fruit, giggling and whispering under their breath, and Kurt can't help the small smile which graces his face when he hears a gentle little laugh from Blaine.

_Yes_, he thinks, _I definitely want more to happen.  
_

* * *

**A/N: Just a quick note, I've got about another two chapters after this written already, but I've hit a bit of a block. It's nothing huge, I'm slowly working around it but I figured I should let you know so, if updates become even more irregular that's why. That and the fact that this month is actually really busy for me so, my free time for writing will actually be significantly cut. I guess I just wanted to warn that updates might take a little longer, but I promise in about three weeks I will have a lot more time and will be able to update a lot more often. All that's left to say then is thank you to every one reading and reviewing and I hope you can forgive me for any upcoming delays :)**


	11. Chapter 11

The next morning begins much the same as the previous one. Blaine wakes to the noise of Kurt in the kitchen before Cooper shuffles out of bed and takes his coffee into the bathroom with him, leaving them alone for the first time since yesterdays conversation was stopped midway through. But neither of them are willing to bring it up, so the minutes drag by with polite conversation and silly jokes and the usual eye rolls, until thankfully, Cooper emerges.

But once again like yesterday he's gone all too soon, leaving them alone, the situation mirroring yesterday scarily.

As soon the door clicks shut, they turn and stare at each other, separated by only a few feet. "So, er, about yesterday…" Kurt begins, willing himself to just _say _the things he's been thinking. Just to tell Blaine no, he doesn't want to stop kissing him or touching him, but before he can Blaine speaks, all at once and fast, reminding Kurt strangely of his first question to Blaine all those months ago which started this whole situation.

"I-don't-want-this-to-stop," Blaine says in a heartbeat, hands wringing together in front of him as he takes a hesitant step closer to Kurt. Kurt's eyebrows shoot up, shocked by his outburst but feeling relieved nonetheless.

"You- you don't?" he asks unsurely.

"No, I don't," Blaine repeats. "I mean… I don't know _what _this is," he motions between there increasingly closer bodies, "and obviously it's not- not necessarily even a _thing_, I mean… you-know-what-I-mean," he worries, "but I- I do know that I don't want it to stop just because of Cooper," he says.

"Okay…" Kurt begins, "so we're- we're just going to carry on, and not tell Cooper, and not- not label whatever this is?" Kurt asks, just to be clear.

"Uh, yeah, pretty much, if you want, that is…" Blaine trails off nervously, biting his lips and shrugging Kurt's favourite little shrug.

Secretly Blaine knows exactly what he'd like to label them as; _boyfriends. _But all night he'd lain in bed and weighed up his options, and he figured the chances of Kurt, gorgeous, sexy, intelligent Kurt, wanting to actually be _his_ boyfriend and have a relationship with _him, _dorky, short, 16 year old Blaine, were pretty slim. Non existent really.

So, as much as he wants that, he decided to try for the more plausible idea of just offering himself up, and seeing whether there's the slightest chance Kurt might want him just a little. So he watches with hopeful, bright eyes as Kurt blinks a few times and then smiles, slow and languid, the kind of smile which makes Blaine's stomach flip with anticipation.

"Yes," Kurt says through a half-sigh, "I want," he nods and laughs under his breath, feeling relief flood his body. He's actually allowed to touch Blaine now, to touch him and kiss him and lay him out.

"Okay, right," Blaine says between breaths, now able to feel Kurt's heat licking at him from how close they're standing, both having subconsciously edged forward.

"You can kiss me now," Kurt says with a cocky smile, leaning down a couple of inches to breath against Blaine's lips, revelling in his sharp intake of breath.

"Okay, right," Blaine repeats, staring up into blissful blue and drowning momentarily. He reaches out blindly and wraps his right hand around Kurt's arm, steadying himself before he leans up, eyes locked with Kurt's until their lips barely graze, feeling his own eyelashes flutter closed and breathing in Kurt's taste, moaning unintentionally. He closes the small gap, and feels Kurt's already open mouth close over his own, his tongue already licking a line along Blaine's lip and pressing in, slow and endlessly sweet.

They kiss leisurely for an endless number of minutes, hands pressing over skin and into hair, lacing around necks and holding their bodies impossibly close. Little noises escape their lips every so often, moans and gasps, a whimper when Kurt steps forward, pressing Blaine's back into the kitchen counter, his hands winding around the boys body to grasp the globes of his ass in each hand, feeling him buck and want beneath him, his cock hardening against Kurt's thigh.

So eventually Kurt pulls back, breathing ragged and quick, nerves thrumming with desire, his hands lift to the hem of Blaine's too-big sweats, sliding an inch beneath the fabric, resting on the high curve of his ass before finding his eyes, silently asking permission. Blaine nods minutely, not caring at that moment as long as Kurt's hands stay on him, along with his lips and his body.

Slowly Kurt pushes down the fabric, letting it drop as soon as it loosens, pooling at Blaine's ankles, revealing his broad thighs, dark haired and hard against Kurt's own, his calves beautifully defined. Kurt can't help the small groan in his chest at the sight, before swallowing heavily and following the lines of Blaine's body up to his blown wide eyes, bitten red lips and flushed pink cheeks. His innocent expression coupled with his cock growing hard between them makes Kurt's body shudder with desire.

"Fuck," he mutters before closing the gap again, slamming their lips together much more forcefully, eliciting a sharp, keening cry from Blaine as his hands fall back, bracing himself against the counter as Kurt presses completely against him, head to toe flushed, feeling his cock ache with how hard he is. "Can I…?" Kurt breaths against his lips, nipping gently as his fingers slide two inches into his boxers.

"Mmhmm," Blaine hums, lips moving to graze the long, hard line of Kurt's neck, stretched tight and faintly stubbly when he reaches his sharp jaw, kissing up to the corner of his mouth and moaning wantonly as Kurt roughly shoves his boxers down, wriggling his hips until they fall to the floor, Kurt's tongue dancing patterns against the roof of his mouth.

And then all at once he's being hoisted into the air, his arms clinging instinctively around Kurt's shoulders as he muffles a small scream and laughs into his hair, earning a chuckle before Kurt plants him firmly on the kitchen counter. He then leans to suck little chunks of Blaine's neck between his lips. Not hard enough to bruise, just hard enough to elicit the filthiest little gasps and mewls from Blaine who arches back, hands falling behind himself, steadying as he thrusts uselessly into air, head thrown back and eyes closed.

He's lost in a world of sensations, the rough drag of teeth on his neck followed by the soft, wet slide of lips, the grasp of hands down his ribs and stomach, hips and thigh, the lack of friction on his cock making his body practically tremble. Then out of nowhere a blood-hot hand is sliding beneath the fabric of his thin vest, over the soft curve of his stomach, round to his waist, but it's not stopping, it's too much, it's too close.

He gasps and flinches away from the touch, pushing at Kurt unintentionally hard, both hands shooting to hold down the fabric, his breath catching in his throat in a stifled choke of words as Kurt freezes and straightens in front of him.

"I- sorry," Kurt instantly apologises, taking a hesitant step forward, hands rising uselessly to comfort Blaine, but not knowing where to touch. "I'm sorry, I thought- well it doesn't matter what I thought, I should've asked, I'm so sorry," he's practically pleading now as Blaine continues to watch him with wide eyes, breathing calming, the shaking in his hands subsiding.

He slides off the kitchen counter before kneeling quickly to tug his boxers and sweats up, feeling frighteningly exposed. He breaths slowly for a few seconds, licking his dry lips and blinking to stop the tears which he can feel swelling as he winds his right arm around his waist, subconsciously running his fingers along his ribs beneath the thin fabric.

"Oh god, please don't cry," Kurt begs, and only then does Blaine realise that tears have indeed filled his eyes, making his vision swim at the edges.

"I- sorry," he mutters, wiping them away frantically.

"No no no," Kurt says hurriedly, stepping forward, arms lifting to hold him but dropping lamely to his sides once again. "_I'm _sorry," he repeats, "I over-stepped and you have every right to be upset," he tries to reassure Blaine. "I should have asked and I-"

But Blaine just laughs a little bitterly, cutting Kurt off with his own words, "I'm not upset over you _wanting_ to touchme," he says, smiling up at Kurt slowly, sniffling a little and feeling utterly useless. "I'm upset because I can't bring myself to _be _touched, not- not there anyway," he explains vaguely, rubbing at his now-red eyes and sighing heavily.

"I don't understand," Kurt says quietly, reaching out to stroke his hands down each of Blaine's bare arms, feeling goosebumps beneath his palms, the skin cold and soft. "You- you _want _me to touch you but you _can't_?" Kurt asks, trying to understand.

"I… no- yeah. Eurgh," Blaine growls in frustration, squeezing past Kurt to leave the confines of the kitchen, escaping into the open space of the living room. He crosses to the couch and runs a hand over the fabric, his back to Kurt. His bed is still unfolded, the blankets tangled and messy. His right arm is still twisted around his body, fingers running over the fabric, feeling the skin beneath it. "It's just my, my side and- and back," he whispers just loud enough for Kurt to hear.

"What about them?" Kurt asks, having made his way over from the kitchen, moving to sit on the edge of the makeshift bed, looking up at Blaine where he's stood behind the couch.

"You remember the- the dance?" Blaine asks, swallowing back more tears as memories flood his mind; the terrifying embrace of darkness, wet, hard concrete beneath him, screams muffled by the night.

Kurt nods, "I remember," he says, feeling fear swell like a wave inside him.

"Well, I dunno how much my parents or Coop told you about my- my injuries but there was pretty bad scarring and I'm not- I'm not entirely comfortable with that part of myself," he manages to say, resolutely avoiding Kurt's eyes and staring instead at where the rough fabric of the couch catches on the slight calluses of his fingers.

"Oh Blaine," Kurt sighs, watching Blaine's eyes flicker up to meet his, a smile curling his lips, disappearing far too fast for it to have been real as his head drops again. "You're gorgeous," Kurt says truthfully, frowning when Blaine instantly begins to shake his head.

"I'm not," he mutters, still avoiding eye contact, "I'm scarred and short and I'm not broad like guys are supposed to be. I'm not strong and muscley like you are and-"

"Shut up," Kurt says suddenly, making Blaine stop mid speech, his head shooting up in shock. "Come here," Kurt demands, opening his arms in offering.

Blaine hesitates a moment before shuffling on bare feet over to Kurt, allowing the older man to pull him between his knees where he's still sat on the sofa bed. Kurt tightens his legs either side of Blaine's knees and rests his chin on the younger boy's stomach, staring up at him, his hands rubbing over his hips. "You're gorgeous," he repeats, pressing a quick kiss to his stomach through the thin fabric, his barrier from what he hates most about himself. "Don't shake your head because you are," he emphasises, anticipating Blaine's denial and pinching his thigh, making a real smile curl his lips.

"You're not '_scarred' _and '_short' _and not '_broad' _enough_,_" Kurt laughs, "you're _brave,_" he emphasises with a hard kiss to his left hip, pleading with his eyes for Blaine to believe him, because it's the truth. "And… _maybe-a-little-below-average-height-but-by-no-means-unusually-small," _he says in one long breath, leaning back and pulling his never-been-touched boy over him, watching him roll his eyes but willingly moving. "And there's no definitive answer for how _broad _guys are meant to be," Kurt promises, pulling Blaine's entire weight on top of him and rubbing his hands over Blaine's shoulders, "and you're plenty broad to me," he smiles, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to the knot of bones atop Blaine right shoulder, feeling him smile against his neck.

"And as for all that other crap, you're 16 Blaine," Kurt reassures him, pressing a kiss to his hairline and smiling up at him, "guys don't stop growing till they're like 21, so you've got five years yet," he says with a smile, feeling Blaine nuzzle into his neck.

"Thank you," he murmurs against Kurt's neck, feeling silly and stupid for getting upset. He doesn't believe what Kurt's saying, he knows he's only saying it to make him feel better and he also knows that Kurt could get any guy he wants. He's literally the epitome of perfect, but Blaine's willing to at least _try _to ignore his own insecurities, not wanting to seem even more childish and inexperienced in front of Kurt. "Sorry I got upset I just-"

"There's no reason to apologise," Kurt assures him, pulling Blaine up so he's hovering right over Kurt, "I promise," he says before slowly sliding their lips together.

It's slower and gentler than before, taking their time to map the feel of the body against theirs, Kurt's hands staying well away from Blaine's sensitive spots, just grazing down his arms and around his neck, the base of his spine and over his ass, adjusting his thighs so that their hips slot together, earning a pleased groan from Blaine.

Kurt smiles into the kiss and pulls away, "roll over," he instructs gently before turning with Blaine, twisting a little in the blankets until he's on top. He stands after exchanging a few more languid, lazy kisses, placing his hands on Blaine's slightly spread knees from where he himself had just been lying, pushing him further up the bed until the backs of his knees press against the bedding. He can't help but smirk at the bulge in Blaine's pants, tenting the fabric and making the younger boy blush and wriggle self-consciously, reaching a hand down to try and hide himself.

"No no," Kurt insists, "let me," he says quietly before dropping to his knees. He shuffles forward, between Blaine's legs, shooting one questioning glance up to Blaine who's sprawled on his back. Blaine gulps and offers a shaky nod before Kurt once again tugs his sweats off. Kurt smiles as the fabric falls to the floor, looks up one final time, seeing the rapid swell of Blaine's chest and the endless black of his pupils, and takes that as a yes before pressing his lips up his inner thigh.

He feels Blaine's body jerk beneath the small touch, hands grappling for his shoulders. Kurt glances up and can just see the concave dip of his stomach between his sharp hip bones, the fabric of his boxers stretched over the gap. Kneeling up he hooks his fingers beneath the fabric, sliding around to Blaine's lower back to lift him slightly off the sofa-bed, tugging them down slowly, letting them fall silently to the floor.

He then presses his face against Blaine's hip, small kisses against the bone, tracing right down to the crease of his inner thigh, hearing his breath stutter, his fingers grip Kurt's shoulders, tugging on the fabric. "C-can I?" he manages to say, propping himself up on his elbows, neck aching from craning up, fingers fisting Kurt's shirt, body trembling with need.

"What?" Kurt mumbles into his skin, eyes shooting up when Blaine doesn't reply.

In response Blaine just sits up properly, staring down at Kurt's flushed face between his legs, his cheeks tinged red and his eyelashes long and dark. He can feel the pressure of Kurt's hands burning his thighs before he tugs a little harder on the fabric stretched over Kurt's back, asking silently. Kurt chuckles and folds both arms behind his head, dragging his shirt off in one swift movement and dropping it unceremoniously to the floor, his lips instantly falling back against Blaine skin.

He hears Blaine moan and feels as warm, shaking hands trace down his back, up either side of his ribs as he places a few final, wet, lingering kisses along Blaine's thigh before sinking his lips over his cock. He slowly laps his tongue around the head and closes his eyes, savouring the taste in his mouth, the gasp of pleasure above him and the solid jerk of the body beneath him.

Blaine's spine arches forward, body bowing partially over Kurt's head as his hands cling and grasp, nails branding pale skin, holding him tighter, wanting closer, needing more. And slowly Kurt give him more, sinking inch by inch until he's completely sheathed by the hot, tight press of Kurt's mouth, his hips naturally rocking the tiniest degree into the heat, feeling as tremors build in his bones, desire coiling up his spine, spreading through his blood. And he can't keep his hands off Kurt, counting the knots of his spine, the rungs of his ribs, outlining his wing-like shoulder blades. He feels every slight movement of Kurt's body beneath his hands and then feels it in his cock, the touches shuddering through his entire body.

Blaine hums in the back of his throat, intersected by gasps and moans as Kurt slowly drags up, the tiniest portion before sinking infinitely slowly back down, Blaine's cock hitting the back of his throat as Blaine cries out above him, "fuck- Kurt-" his breathing stutters as Kurt gently slides off his cock, nudging his head against his chest, hands on his hips pushing him back.

"Lie down," he instructs, voice rough and lips filthily wet, the combined sight and sound making Blaine's body weaken noticeably as he falls willingly back, sprawled and waiting. And instantly Kurt's mouth sinks back over him, faster this time, building up a dirty, endless, perfect rhythm, making Blaine moan and cant his hips up as Kurt's hands graze his thighs and hips and balls.

"Holy fu-uck," he throws his head back, hands tangling in Kurt's previously perfect hair, nails digging unintentionally hard into his scalp as Kurt moans and swallows around the cock in his mouth, his own cock pressing painfully hard against the zipper of his jeans. "Shit- I- Kur-" he begins to tug on the fistfuls of hair he's holding, white-hot liquid shooting in flames up his spine as he tries to pull Kurt off because he's so close, so painfully close. But Kurt just grabs his wrists and pins them down either side of his hips, leans up further and bends his neck more, continuing to suck, lapping his tongue along the vein on the underside, hollowing his cheeks and flicking over the slit before dropping swiftly back down, Blaine's hips rocking up to meet him each time, his body thrashing with desperation.

His skin is on fire, his wrists restrained and his mouth open with silent pleas and gasps and moan. Kurt's mouth is blood-hot and almost painfully tight and when Blaine glances down, the sight of Kurt's flushed face between his spread legs is just too much, the slick, pulsing red of his lips makes Blaine's body tremble and lift off the bed, fire engulfing his body as Kurt's eyelashes flutter sinfully, sweetly closed, and that's all it takes before Blaine's coming harder than he ever thought was possible. He feels Kurt hum around his cock, the grip on his wrists tightening as his head rolls back and his body lifts and he strains, arched inches above the bed, coming in Kurt's mouth for an endless number of seconds before he falls a hundred miles a second, crashing back down to earth.

And then all at once he slumps, feeling gentle licks decorate his cock before through a blissful haze of white noise and sensory overload he blinks his eyes open, looking down just in time to see Kurt wipe his thumb over the corner of his mouth, catching Blaine's eyes before sucking it between his still wet lips, the white streak of Blaine's come disappearing into his mouth.

"Fuck," he groans again as his head falls back with a light thump, his fingers flexing experimentally from where they still lay slightly numb beside his hips. He hears Kurt laugh and feels warm, now-familiar hands stroking up his calves, tugging the soft fabric of his boxers up and over him. Lifting his hips he allows Kurt to tuck him back in with a final kiss to his bruised hip.

Kurt stands and stares down at the debauched boy beneath him, eyes closed and arms stretching over his head, fingers flexing. Kurt smiles and skitters his fingers up Blaine's bare thigh, feeling coarse hairs tickle before he turns and goes to grab his discarded shirt, not wanting to over crowd him.

"Hey, where're you going? Get back here," Blaine half pleads, half demands in the sleep-slow voice of a boy still recovering from a particularly amazing orgasm.

Kurt turns and pads back over, sliding his hands questioningly into Blaine's outstretched ones. He feels Blaine try to pull him down and is unable to hide his smile at the weak attempts, hearing Blaine huff before dropping his arms. "Just get on me," Blaine eventually mutters, eyes still closed, body limp and pliant and so, so wanting.

Kurt snorts with laughter but obliges, gently kneeling onto the tangled blankets and lowering himself onto Blaine's lap, the younger boys hands instantly fitting to the sharp curves of his hips, head turning languidly as he blinks open, the dopiest, happiest smile on his face. "Hi," he says, eyes trailing slowly down the exposed stretch of Kurt's bare upper body now high above him. His fingers follow the path of his eyes in light touches, making Kurt's skin goosebump, the hairs on his neck stand on end.

"Hey," Kurt replies, feeling utterly, indescribably silly but utterly, indescribably happy. He leans forward, placing his hands either side of Blaine's head and gently fits their lips together, feeling Blaine's arms twine around him, body curving up to meet Kurt's while simultaneously pulling him down, melting beneath his warmth.

"See," Blaine says between kisses, "I don't look like this," his hands trace patterns along Kurt's shoulder blades. "Your skins perfect," kiss, "and flawless," kiss, "and fuck-" he groans then, head slumping as his hands splay and dance across Kurt's shoulders, from his neck right down the blades at the back, "your shoulders are gorgeous," he concludes in awe, kissing the jut of bones at the top.

But Kurt just sighs, shakes his head, decides not to argue and smiles a little dopily, leaning forward to kiss him again as Blaine hands sink lower, down to the small of his back, pressing him gently down and feeling with a jolt of surprise the Kurt is hard against his hip.

"Mm, sorry," Kurt mumbles, angling his hips a little higher, not wanting to make Blaine uncomfortable, because, as much as he'd like Blaine to touch him he can't pressure him into it. He knows that Blaine's a virgin in basically ever sense of the word, and forcing him to do anything he's not completely okay with is the last thing Kurt wants. So he tells himself to not be too disappointed as he lifts his hips, and to instead focus on the delicious way Blaine's nipping along his shoulder, hands pressing sinful prints into his hips.

"Don't be sorry, it's…" Blaine trails off, face moving to glance down between their bodies, able to just see the bulge beneath Kurt's jeans, "it's nice," he finishes a little lamely, daring to move his hands down, over the swell of Kurt's ass to grasp the backs of his thighs, tugging him gently down so that all his weight presses over Blaine.

"'Nice?'" Kurt scoffs a little, tilting his head in confusion.

"I just mean, it's nice to know that you er- you, y'know," he nods unnecessarily down at Kurt's crotch, "because of me," he concludes with the smallest smile, a hint of pride in his eyes.

"Oh my god you're adorable," Kurt breaths out all at once, laughing and resting his head against Blaine's shoulder, "and yes, because of you. You might not believe _me _when I say you're gorgeous, but I assure you my dick feels the same," Kurt jokes into his skin, making Blaine laugh and blush and shake his head, turning to smile at the man stretched out above him.

"D'you need to me to… er…" his eyes flicker down the length of Kurt's body again, uncertainty flaring in his pupils, the rigidness of his body telling Kurt everything he needs to know.

"Nuh uh," Kurt assures Blaine, rolling from on top of him, "I'm fine," he says with an easy smile, pulling Blaine to lie properly along the pull out bed beside him.

But Blaine looks unsure as he sidles over, shooting a glance down to the visible outline of Kurt's cock before focusing back on the mans face. It's not that he doesn't want to touch Kurt, because _fuck _he really does, but his feeling of daring has gone. Just the thought of tugging on Kurt's hair like he had only moments ago is enough to make him blush, let alone the thought of sliding his hand into Kurt's pants. I understand the logistics, he thinks, but it's not really the same as jerking yourself off is it? He wouldn't know what Kurt likes, how tight, how fast, how- anything really. And what if he's really bad at it, what if Kurt goes limp in his hand and then just pushes him away because he's not good enough. Because he'll never be good enough. He pushes these thoughts to the back of his mind and instead glances down one final time, and back up at Kurt's face, "are you-" he begins to ask before Kurt talks over him, eyes closed.

"I'm fine," Kurt repeats, feeling Blaine shuffle a little closer. He opens his eyes and smiles slowly, moving his arm in offering. Blaine smiles a little, hiding it beneath his hand but wriggling into the space nonetheless, pushing down his insecurities and inexperience as his chest presses against Kurt's side, face pillowing against his shoulder, feeling a strong arm settle around his shoulders, thankful for Kurt avoiding where he now knows him to be self conscious of.

His winds one arm up and over Kurt's chest, tracing patterns down his sternum, pressing between the ridges of his ribs and gliding his nails down the dip and sweep of Kurt's stomach from the cage of his ribs. "I'm sorry," he mutters, pressing his nose beneath Kurt's collarbone and inhaling the almost familiar smell.

"What for?" Kurt asks, blinking his eyes open and staring down at the mess of Blaine's curls beneath his face, the flicker of his eyelashes as his eyes follow the path of his fingers.

"Not being ready… even though you've-" he begins in a small voice, feeling like he needs to justify what Kurt must be seeing as him just being a prude.

"Blaine," Kurt interrupts, closing his eyes again and settling closer to Blaine "shut up," he says, tightening his arm around the body pressed to his side. "It's not a competition, it's not tit-for-tat," he assures him, "or tat-for-tat in our case," he jokes, earning a muffled laugh and the press of a smile against his bare skin. "I like- I like doing that to you- with you," Kurt tries to assure him. And it's only after these words that Blaine allows himself to fully relax, telling himself next time he'll definitely do something, because _god, _does he want to.

A few minutes pass in blissful silence, just their breathing filling the room until Blaine leans up onto his elbow, staring down at Kurt's closed eyes and serene face before speaking, "I feel gross," he says, scrunching his face, making that the first thing Kurt sees when he turns and opens his eyes. And as usual with Blaine, Kurt finds it impossibly cute and can't control as a strange fluttering begins in his stomach.

"Gee, thanks," he manages to joke though, his voice only a little bit higher than usual because of the swooping in his stomach.

"No," Blaine rushes to assure him, "not because of you! Just because, I'm a bit sweaty and y'know," he shrugs. "I'm gonna go shower, will you- you'll be here when I get out?" he asks unsurely.

Kurt hums and nods, tangling his arm previously wrapped around Blaine into the boys hair, dragging him down for a quick kiss, which easily escalates into a multitude of short kisses and long, sweeping strokes of lips. But eventually, whether after minutes or hours neither of them knows, Kurt pushes him back and smiles sleepily. Blaine takes the hint and stands, disappearing into the bathroom.

"Don't take too long," Kurt shouts after him, unable to see Blaine from where he's laying, but he hears the quick stop of his footsteps.

"Why?" Blaine asks, dipping his head over the back of the couch and smiling the wrong way up at Kurt.

"Places to go, people to see," Kurt says with a dramatic sweep of his hand, grinning equally hugely back.

"Mmm, mysterious," Blaine mumbles, leaning forward to drop a final, upside down kiss to Kurt's lips, before turning and reluctantly entering the bathroom, wondering what Kurt's got planned for the day.


	12. Chapter 12

It turns out Kurt wanted to go shopping, which Blaine had got extremely excited about, imagining them trailing in and out of stores together, hand in hand. Maybe Kurt would let Blaine in the changing rooms with him when he tried stuff on, maybe he'd twirl around and ask for Blaine's opinion, which he'd happily give because let's not lie, Kurt looks amazing what ever he wears.

And Blaine would offer to hold his bags and not complain like Cooper does, and maybe Kurt would let him buy them lunch and hook their feet together under the table. Okay, so Blaine had really, _really, _been looking forward to shopping with Kurt.

That's why now, stood shivering in the freezer aisle of the local supermarket, he's sulking and shrugging in response to any question Kurt asks. His arms are crossed over his chest, partly in a weak attempt to keep warm, and partly in defiance while he glares at the floor.

"Hey, what's up with you?" Kurt asks, bumping his shoulder as he walks by, earning a mumbled response and a huff. This makes Kurt stop where he's reaching into a freezer before turning slowly, looking at Blaine questioningly. "Come on then, out with it," he says, stepping in front of Blaine and levelling him with a serious expression.

But Blaine just shrugs again and looks away, rubbing his hands over his cold, goosebumped arms. "There's nothing wrong, I'm fine," he grumbles.

Kurt frowns and moves to stand directly in front of where Blaine's staring, earning the ghost of a smile and an attempted eye roll. "I'm not psychic Blaine," Kurt begins, "and from what I can remember you've had a pretty good morning so far, so d'you mind sharing with me what's got you so grumpy all of a sudden?" Kurt questions, following Blaine's eyes as he avoids Kurt's, staring down and over his shoulder and at the ceiling.

Eventually though he sighs and gives up, knowing Kurt isn't going to drop it. "It's nothing. I'm being an idiot, I'm sorry, can we get ice cream?" he tries to perk up and smiles slightly, stepping around Kurt.

"Woah woah woah," Kurt says, grabbing his wrist and pulling him back. "You're not getting away that easy. Spill!" he threatens, his hand warm and strong around Blaine's wrist, whose eyes momentarily dart down to stare at the considerably paler skin against his own more tanned arm.

"Well, when you said shopping I thought you meant _shopping,_" Blaine emphasises the last word, watching Kurt's face crinkle in confusion before realisation dawns and he begins to laugh, turning back to the freezers and crossing to the ice cream.

"We can go properly shopping if you want, we'll just drop all this back at home. I just knew we were running out of food, I didn't expect you to eat as much as Coop, let alone _more,_" Kurt teases, glancing over his shoulder and smiling at Blaine where he's come to stand beside him, eyes roaming hungrily over the ice cream available.

"I can pay for this by the way, dad gave me money to pay for myself and stuff," Blaine offers absently, patting his pockets before finding his wallet.

"Don't worry about it," Kurt offers, taking Blaine's chosen ice cream from his hand and dropping it in the basket, "your parents let me live basically rent free, the least I can do is feed their son for a month," he says absently.

"You're doing a lot more than just feeding me," Blaine whispers lightly when he leans over, his breath warm against Kurt's neck as they walk together.

But the older man just stifles his laughter and pushes Blaine away, unable to stop smiling and blushing. "Well, I don't think they need to know about that do they? I don't want to be homeless," Kurt says, half serious, watching Blaine out of the corner of his eye as the boy runs his fingers absently over the boxes of cereal on the shelves.

Silence engulfs them for a moment, both smiling to themselves before Blaine speaks, "they hate it y'know," he says mysteriously, picking up a box of Reese's Puffs and moving to slip them in the basket behind Kurt's back.

"Hate what?" Kurt asks with a look of concern, grabbing the cereal and leaning over Blaine to place is back on the shelf, grabbing a healthier option and glowering at Blaine when, with a cheeky smile, he goes to pick his original choice back up again. "Don't," Kurt warns. "It took me literally months to wean Cooper off those," he says seriously, pointing an accusing finger at Blaine who promptly drops the box and continues to follow Kurt.

"Hate that you insist on paying rent, they moan about it like, every month when you pay it into their account," Blaine tells him, "I always hear them."

"They moan about it?" Kurt asks, stopping in the middle of the aisle, causing Blaine to walk a few steps without him before realising, turning with a look of confusion on his face, crossing to stand in front of Kurt.

"Not moan exactly, maybe that was the wrong word," he says hurriedly, looking into the distance as he thinks. "They just," he shrugs, which makes Kurt smile a little at the familiarity of it before quickly schooling his features, "They don't expect you to pay rent," he eventually concedes. "Cooper doesn't so they don't see why-"

"Yes, because Cooper's their _son_!" Kurt sighs, having had this argument a dozen times already with every Anderson. "I can't expect them to let me live in their beautiful, many-hundreds-of-thousands-of-dollars-worth apartment, in _Chelsea, _in _Manhattan, _in _New-fucking-York _for nothing Blaine. They could rent it out for real and get a ridiculous amount more than I pay" Kurt says, and it's half pleading, not wanting to discuss this for what feels like the hundredth time.

"Well yeah but, I mean, regardless of you, Coop would be living there anyway, so it makes no difference if you're there or not, I mean, to the prospect of renting it out," Blaine explains quickly, giving the same speech his father had given to Kurt, albeit it considerably less eloquent and convincing.

"Blaine," Kurt says, placing his free hand on the boys shoulder and leaning down to align their faces. "I'm paying rent, whether they like it or not, and I'm thanking my lucky stars every day for having a best friend like Cooper, with parents like yours, who are willing to let me live there, so stop arguing with me," he concludes. He watches as Blaine rolls his eyes, his lips parting no doubt to argue, but before he gets the chance Kurt steps forward and seals them with a kiss.

And that's definitely enough to shut Blaine up as he gasps before quickly kissing back, his hands instinctively flying up to knot into Kurt's hair, tiptoeing to get just that little bit more.

And then all at once Kurt's pulling away, feeling warmth flood his body. He places a steadying hand on Blaine's shoulder, pushing him back as he smiles and blushes, shaking his head at the younger boys enthusiasm, his memory jolting back to their first kiss, Blaine basically crawling onto Kurt's lap, giving as good as he got. Suddenly Kurt wants nothing more than to be at home with this boy spread out beneath him and making the noises Kurt loves to hear.

"I think we're done here, do you?" Kurt asks quickly, eyes darting between Blaine's.

"Uh huh," Blaine nods, bottom lip caught between his teeth before he turns and heads towards the cash registers, Kurt's hand slipping warm and broad into his own as they fall into step.

/

They make it home in record time, bags rustling and under threat of splitting at they dart into the building, crashing into the elevator. Kurt pins Blaine against the interior wall as the doors slide shut, dropping the bags in his hands he instead grasps Blaine's hips and presses against him, earning a muffled groan as he dips his lips to the tender skin beneath the collar of Blaine's shirt, nudging it away with his nose before biting gently up to his lips. He sucks a gasp straight from the younger boy's mouth before pressing his tongue in, feeling the body against him tremble, knees weakening, held up almost completely by Kurt's hands on his hips.

They reach their floor and scramble out the elevator, both dragging bags before dropping them, Kurt scrambles for the keys in his pocket, Blaine's arms winding around him from behind, skittering under his shirt, over his stomach as he arcs back into the touch.

Finally the small key slides into place, turned with a deft flick of his wrist as he twists in Blaine's arms and stumbles back, winding his arms around the boys neck and kissing him fiercely, tugging him along. He feels Blaine smile against his lips, hands caressing his hips and waist beneath his shirt, racing around to the base of his spine, his tongue slipping between the seal of Kurt's lips.

And they're both laughing, stumbling into the room before Kurt reluctantly drags back, "food," he manages to say breathlessly through a smile, followed a heartbeat later by "and door."

Blaine's smiles a little slowly before turning and dragging Kurt by the shirt with him back to the door. They grab a couple of bags each, laughing and bumping as they drop them in the kitchen, Blaine slamming the door before colliding with a hot, solid body behind him, soft lips fluttering like butterfly wings over his neck.

He groans as his eyes fall closed, body relaxing into the touch and press of Kurt behind him, letting himself be pulled back. He assumes they're heading for the couch, somewhere soft where they can both sprawl out and get lost in the touch and taste and feel of another body, where they can explore the person beside them. But instead he spins in surprise when he see's the couch getting further and further away, the lips on his neck become needier and rougher, hands roaming to the front of his body, over the denim clad expanse of his thighs.

"Kurt, where are we- oh," realisation dawns all at once at his feet bump on the threshold of Kurt's bedroom, the hand on his fly forcing the button open, the loud, quick grind of a zip being undone before Kurt's spinning him in his arms. His hands dig into Blaine's biceps, dragging him forward, leaning down to press their lips together and feeling Blaine gasp into the kiss. Kurt can feel the flex and quiver of the muscles beneath his hands, straining as Blaine's hands dart forward, fingers hooking into the belt loops of his jeans, pulling him forward as his mouth drops open with a moan, his back bowing with the force of Kurt's lips on his.

And then Kurt's pushing him, nipping on his bottom lip one final time, dragging it between the sharp points of his teeth before his hands tighten, grasping and holding and pushing, pushing until Blaine's knees hit his bed and he buckles, laughing and smiling and breathless and beautiful. And Kurt's on top of him, knees either side of his hips, lips sucking sinfully over his neck, the exposed inches of his collarbone, fingers dipping incrementally beneath the boys gorgeously tight, annoyingly tight jeans until he can feel the swell of Blaine's ass in his hands, the instinctual upwards jerk of his hips, the press of his cock against Kurt's own.

Blaine's spine arches off the mattress, his head pressing into the sheets, falling to one side with increasingly shallow breaths, his hands shaking against Kurt's knees, up his strong thighs, over his hips, slim waist, grasping his broad shoulder and dragging, dragging until they're chest to chest and he can feel Kurt's heart beating rapid almost against his own. He can feel Kurt's lips wet and wonderful against his neck, his hands dragging down his jeans, the almost silent sound of the heavy fabric hitting the floor before there is a soft, broad-palmed hand dipped into his boxers, around his cock, moving in delicious twists and pulls.

"Kurt," Blaine's voice is dry and cutting and his eyes are unfocused as pleasure begins to coil through his body embarrassingly quickly. "Kurt," he repeats, one hand winding into the older mans hair, the other skittering down his chest, fingers catching on the buttons of his shirt, "can I-" he's cut off as lips press urgently to his own, one hand splayed beside his head the other working over him deliriously fast.

"You don't-" Kurt begins, head dropping beside Blaine's, "-have to-" he manages between breaths "-ask." His lips press against Blaine's ear, breath hot and body even hotter where it's draped over Blaine, every point of contact making his skin burn and blister with want, "just do whatever-" he leans back up, looking down with wide, endlessly black pupils and a smile that can only be described as devilish "-you want," he finishes before pressing his forehead to Blaine's, daring the younger boy to do as he's told.

Blaine gulps once, staring for an endless number of seconds up at the man sprawled and willing above him, the hot-sweet intoxication of his breath spreading like oxygen through his body until he feels light headed and feverish with desire. Desire to touch and taste and take, take and be taken in return. "O-okay," he stutters, hands rising to the collar of Kurt's shirt, fumbling at first before building confidence, popping the buttons one by one before with a final, assuring glance he pushes the fabric back, revealing the pale, soft curves of Kurt's body, the hard, yielding muscle and the sharp, jutting bones of hips and ribs and scapulae.

Kurt smiles down at him, and it's almost proud before his eyes flutter closed and his lips press into the sweat-damp hollow of Blaine's throat, feeling his breath catch and release in small bursts and long sighs of relief as his hands roam unrestrained over the body above him. Almost on instinct his hands dip and run down the inward curve of Kurt's spine, down to the base of his back, to the dimples pressed into his skin before forcing Kurt's solid, wonderful weight more on top of him, feeling the hard line of Kurt's cock where is rubs against his thigh, denim rough against bare skin.

"Kurt I- can you - please-" Blaine stutters, hands tightening and loosening on any and every part of Kurt he can touch, can reach and hold and cling to and want.

"Mmm?" Kurt hums against his neck, kisses decorating the blood-hot skin and cooling rapidly, the print of his lips overlapping and repeating over the tender skin of Blaine's throat a hundred times. "What d'you want?" he eventually asks when Blaine squirms beneath his, breathing shallow and quick and hands frantic over his skin.

"I want- I want to see you," he manages to say, blushing painfully red, biting his kiss swollen lips and looking every inch the half-debauched, desperate virgin that he is.

Kurt's eyebrows shoot up at the confession, because only this morning he'd been apologising for not being ready to do anything himself. And that'd been fine, perfectly fine, that still is fine. Kurt's more than happy to swathe him in kisses and touches and words, to make him fall apart and shatter and break, and then to rebuild him afterwards with just his lips, just his touch.

But this confession, those words whispered from a frightened mouth, from a frightened but thrilled boy who has no idea _what _he wants, who just knows that he wants and needs and craves something more, anything more, sends shudders of anticipation hurtling through Kurt's body like a train racing and rickety and dangerous on it's track.

And Kurt wants as well; wants like he never has before. He wants to tear away Blaine's clothes and then tear away the barriers he's built. He wants to destroy all the misconceptions he has of himself. He wants to make him feel gorgeous and adored and he wants, more than anything, to make Blaine _feel _wanted. To make Blaine see how crazy he drives Kurt, with his little shrugs and innocent smiles and untouched body, his dandelion-long eyelashes and lips which taste entirely of boy.

So Kurt smiles, slow and in stark contract with the scream of his blood in his ears, the hammer of his heart against his chest. Removing his hand from Blaine's boxers he shuffles back, off the bed and stands. "You want to see?" he asks, just to be sure, cocking an eyebrow and watching the slight curl of Blaine's toes as he nods, leaning up on his elbows, hair falling mussed and loose across his forehead.

So Kurt, without a moments hesitation, quickly unbuttons and unzips his jeans, wriggling his hips and pushing them down, stepping out of them and kicking them away. He looks up just in time to see Blaine's eyes outline his legs, quickly scanning up the muscles and bones and tendons, his bottom lip being pulled unthinkingly between his lips. And then his eyes find Kurt's navy boxers, a dark skin stretched tight over his thighs, the outline of his cock distinct and unavoidable. Kurt sees Blaine's throat work around a swallow and tries his hardest not to paint a million sordid mental images with the sight.

"You okay?" he asks, just to be sure, just to make sure Blaine is in fact still alive. But he is; Kurt can quite clearly see the rapid swell and dip of his chest beneath the Henley he's wearing and the room is filled with the sound of his breathing, made better by the catch of a gasp in his throat when Kurt's hands lift and hook over the waistband of his briefs. "Blaine, say something," Kurt insists, wondering whether things are moving too quick, too far, too much.

Blaine coughs and swallows again and nods, his eyes finally finding Kurt's before smiling blissfully slowly, "yeah I- never been better," he manages to laugh and blushes beautifully pink when Kurt rolls his eyes.

"Shall I?" Kurt asks, his eyes dipping to his waistband before searching Blaine's own for the tiniest increment of fear or hesitation.

Blaine nods quickly, eyes flicking back down to the line of Kurt's cock. But just as Kurt's finger dip beneath the fabric Blaine pushes himself up quickly, sitting properly on the edge of the bed as he speaks, "wait!" he says, causing Kurt to stop mid movement, "I- I want to," he says, voice quiet and unsure but urgent, holding tight to the sudden boldness seeping through his body.

"You do?" Kurt asks, the ghost of a grin curling his lips, fingers halting beneath the tight fabric.

"Please, if- if you don't mind," Blaine stutters, swallowing the growing fear in his stomach, the churning, crunching nervousness which causes his hands to shake when they lift, reaching towards Kurt.

Kurt steps forward, his feet between Blaine's where he's sat at the foot of the bed. Kurt splays his hands broad and strong against Blaine's shoulders, kneading the tense muscles as his head dips with a smile. Blaine stares up, lost but longing, frightened but thrilled. "Hey, you don't have to-" Kurt begins, carding his fingers through the knots of Blaine's hair, bed-ruffled and messy.

"I want to," Blaine assures him, hands smoothing over Kurt's sharp hip bones, thumbs dipping a half inch beneath the fabric, gliding down the hard, gradual slope of muscle, causing Kurt's breath to catch above him, nails digging slightly into his scalp. Then slowly, bit by bit, he pushes the boxers down, over the curve of Kurt's ass, over his straining cock, down his thighs until eventually the fabric falls forgotten to the floor. Kurt steps out of them and with gentle touches tilts Blaine's head up, watching and holding back a smile at the way his head tilts but his eyes remain focused on the cock in front of him.

"Look at me," Kurt eventually says gently, twisting his fingers in Blaine's hair and suppressing another smile when his eyes dart feverishly fast upwards, obviously not having realised he was blatantly gawping. "I wanna try something," Kurt then says, watching Blaine's eyes grow larger, his hands tightening around Kurt's thighs where neither of them had even realised he was holding. "Is that okay?"

"Mmhmm," Blaine hums, not trusting himself to form words right now.

"Okay, scoot back," Kurt says confidently, slapping Blaine lightly on the thigh and watching as he shuffles back eagerly, eyes darting up and down over Kurt's body, lithe and lean and long and his, at least for now. His eyes grow noticeably wider when Kurt climbs onto the bed above him, slowly, his eyes never leaving Blaine's as his hands fall gently against the boy's stomach, feeling the muscles flutter and tense beneath thin fabric as Kurt lowers himself to sit naked on Blaine's thighs.

"What're you do-…" Blaine's voice wavers before morphing into a low, animalistic groan as Kurt's hand slides warm and confident beneath his boxers, long fingers wrapping and squeezing his cock perfectly, his hips canting upwards automatically.

Kurt smirks unashamedly, watching his never-been-touched boy fall apart beneath _his_ hand, the weight of _his_ naked body, writhing and wanting against him. "I'm gonna take these off, 'kay?" Kurt asks through his grin, one finger tugging at his boxers, watching as Blaine's cheeks flush blood-red, the colour leaking down his neck, beneath the fabric Kurt isn't even going to think about removing.

"M- M'kay," he manages to say, taking a deep, stuttering breath when Kurt's hand finally releases him. Kurt works quickly, moving one hand beneath Blaine's body to lift his hips slightly, forcing the dark material down Blaine's ass and off his thighs, letting Blaine wriggle until they fall to the floor. His hand then wraps slow and strong around Blaine's cock again as he leans forward, his body stretching over Blaine's as he slowly slides their lips together. Blaine's hands wind tight and fast into his hair as his hips stutter off the mattress, thrusting into Kurt's palm.

"Tell me if- if you want me to stop, okay?" Kurt breaths against his lips, shuffling a little further up until he feels the hard press of Blaine's hip against the head of his cock.

"Uh huh," Blaine mumbles, slotting their lips back together and arching up, his eyes falling shut as his body trembles with pleasure. He feels as Kurt's hand releases him and whines, thrusting uselessly upwards and then ripping his lips from Kurt's when he feels Kurt roll his hips slightly, his cock rubbing hard and hot against Blaine's, bare and exposed and skin-on-skin and too much and not enough all at once.

Blaine's head snaps down, looking between their almost flush bodies and watching in awe as Kurt's hips press him down, their cocks aligning before a pale, broad hand wraps firm and tight around them both at once, dragging a choked gasp from Blaine's lips as his heels dig into the mattress and jolts his hips up, hearing Kurt laugh in his ear, feeling his lips glide like silk over his throat, hand moving sinfully slowly around them both.

"Fuck- Kurt, you could ha- have warned me," he manages to articulate between gasps and shivers, his nails digging tight over each of Kurt's shoulders, hearing him laugh low and deep in his ear, feeling the sharp scratch of his teeth over the skin jumping above his pulse.

"Where's the fun in that?" Kurt whispers against the shell of Blaine's ear, the warm brush of his breath making Blaine writhe and groan beneath him, craning his head to the side, one hand fisting Kurt's hair, dragging him closer, sliding their lips messily together.

And Kurt can't help but chuckle against his lips, smiling into the kiss and feeling his body tremble from the inside out. He shuffles slightly, grinding his hips down hard, earning a choked gasp and hard bite from Blaine before he slips his hand away, moving up to his own shoulder, tangling his fingers with Blaine's hand branding touches into his skin. Blaine lets go and blindly allows his hand to be guided downwards, his mind far too distracted with each touch and drag and sound to comprehend anything but the man above him.

Then all of a sudden Kurt has formed a cage with their interlocked fingers and is sliding both their hands down over each of their lengths, pressed firmly together in the tight ring of their sweat-damp palms. Blaine bucks and moans on contact, and whether it's the pressure on his own cock or the weight of Kurt in his hand he doesn't know, but both those feelings together make his head spin in the most delicious, delirious way.

Blaine pulls back just in time to see a smirk spread slowly over Kurt's face, his eyes wide and undeniably pleased with himself. Blaine blushes under his gaze, biting his lip before tightening his hand as for the first time he touches someone other than himself. And the reaction is instantaneous; the spark of heat up his spine and the buck of his hips, the thump as his head falls back and the pounding in his chest. But more noticeable and more beautiful and more mind-numbingly unbelievable is the reaction his touch elicits from Kurt; the short stutter of his breath, the quiver in his arm, the flicker of his eyelids and the way his entire body stretches and keens, the inward bow of his spine before he melts above Blaine, upper body slumping closer to him, lips against his neck, puffs of breath like pleas against his skin. His eyes become darker, hooded, unfocused as Blaine experimentally tightens and loosens his grip, repeating Kurt's slow, teasing movements with both their hands and marvelling as Kurt actually trembles against him, whining almost silently.

Then all of a sudden Kurt's spine is straightening, his hand slipping away from Blaine's as he stretches slightly, pulling open his bedside drawer. Blaine watches him through a haze of heat and touch, the gentle thrust of Kurt's hips, cocks still sliding together in Blaine's hand. He sees Kurt pull out a small plastic bottle, his gaze flickering to Blaine who's watching every movement. Kurt sits up slightly and takes Blaine's hand, his own shaking slightly as he squeezes liquid into his palm.

And it takes Blaine a moment to realise, his mind understandably preoccupied, short circuiting beneath the sweltering heat of Kurt as he drapes himself back over the younger boy, his chest pressing against him as his lips hum words into his neck. But eventually he catches on and, looking down Kurt's body, over the heave of his chest and the juts of his hip, he wraps his hand once again around his own cock and Kurt's pressed against him

The change is immediate; slick and tight and agonisingly perfect. Kurt moans brokenly into his neck and that's all the encouragement Blaine needs to quicken his grip, tightening his hold and twisting. He thumbs over both their heads, already wet with pre-come, earning a sharp gasp of breath from Kurt which releases in a wave over Blaine's body as he arcs upwards, into his own touch. He can feel heat bubbling at the base of his spine, leaking down his thighs, humming through his blood as his hand tightens a fraction more, speeding up and shuddering with the body above him, his other hand knotted in Kurt's hair, just holding as Kurt's face sinks into his skin.

Kurt's lips are warm against his neck and throat, the inches of his exposed shoulder and that spot behind his ear which he never knew was quite so sensitive. Teeth graze over his jaw, not kissing but just breathing, just staccato burst of breath intercepted with the tickle of eyelashes against his skin and the softest, smallest moans of pleasure which hum from deep in Kurt's throat.

"Kurt I- I-" Blaine's grip falters as his body jerks upwards, toes curling against the sheets as desire coils crushingly around him, hips rocking incrementally upwards. Kurt's body is pliant and fluid, pressed hot and solid and soft and naked above and against him, around him, inescapable and perfect as his hands tremble, rhythm lessening, hips canting up, head pressing back, lips opening with a moan.

Kurt feels his grip falter, feels the tightness of his fingers in his hair, nails scraping his scalp and he can practically hear Blaine's blood rushing beneath the thin skin of his throat. He looks up just in time to see Blaine's eyes roll, head pressed back, the white of his teeth, pink of his tongue, the inviting cavern of his mouth as Kurt leans up, slipping his tongue in alongside Blaine's and sliding his hand down between there sweating, swathed bodies.

Blaine's shirt is stuck to his chest and Kurt can feel the twitch and twist of Blaine's stomach muscles as his fingertips creep down his body before wrapping around them both, squeezing Blaine's hand, a silent plea as the younger boys body shudders and rolls upwards, his hand interlacing needily with Kurt's, mirroring his movements blindly. Blaine kisses back, battling for dominance, fighting with bites and licks, earning mewls and whines. But it's only when Blaine unintentionally scratches his nails over the stretched tight muscles of Kurt's back that he earns the loudest, filthiest, most disgustingly attractive moan followed by the juddering, short bucks of Kurt's hips down, over and over again which makes Blaine dizzy with sensation.

And then suddenly he's being flipped, Kurt's falling to the side and dragging him, dragging Blaine on top before his hand resumes the tight drag and pull along both their cocks and it's all to fast and all too much for Blaine to keep up. Because now he's on top of Kurt, knees unsteady either side of his thighs, his shoulders pressing into Kurt's chest as he leans over him, one hand still interlocked around their cocks, moving with Kurt's, wet and hot and fast. And there's a hand in his hair, tugging and dragging, Kurt's moans and gasps filling his ears and his body, his body which is burning. Head to toe on fire, going up in flames as his lips stutter out Kurt's name and a hundred indecipherable syllables and he comes, endlessly and drawn out, his head against Kurt's collarbone and his words against his heart and his come decorating his bare stomach.

Kurt comes seconds later, his teeth closing over Blaine's shoulder, bared where his shirt has fallen down slightly, his moans muffled into sun-brown, sweat-slick skin, his eyes half closed as his hips lift, taking Blaine with them and holding as he jerks and trembles through his orgasm before every bone in his body breaks and ever muscle screams and he slumps down, taking Blaine with him.

And for minutes, which each last a lifetime, they lay in silence, in the oppressive heat of one another's bodies, Blaine pressed against Kurt in a million places as they both smile their own secret, hidden, indecipherable smiles while the sex-saturated air around them cools the sweat on their bodies, rising goosebumps over their exposed skin in the wake of each touch.

Eventually Blaine rolls to the side and sprawls on his back, his thigh pressed to Kurt's, his body feeling limp and pliant and warm all over, mind a few paces slower than usual. He takes a deep, head-clearing breath before opening his eyes, slow and languid as he turns to face Kurt beside him. His eyes are closed, lips parted just slightly, kissed pink to match his flushed cheeks. One of his arms is trapped beneath Blaine's body, fingers curled softly against his waist, the other lies awkwardly across his chest from where it had fallen when Blaine moved. It's only when Blaine's eyes fall to Kurt's stomach that he notices the mixture of lube and their mixed come smeared over his skin, causing a small laugh to bubble out of him.

This catches Kurt's attention and he turns slowly to face Blaine, his eyes blinking open as a smile stretches across his own face. "What?" he asks a little groggily, tightening his arm around Blaine and pulling him closer.

Blaine's eyes flicker down to his stomach and Kurt's eyes follow, unable to hold back his own smile at the mess on his body and staining Blaine's shirt. He reaches out blindly and grabs some tissues from the bedside table, quickly wiping up most the mess before throwing them blindly in the direction of the bin.

"Very conveniently placed tissues," Blaine comments, unable to hide his smile and instead burying it in Kurt's neck.

"Shut up," Kurt retaliates, pinching his waist before pulling him even closer. He groans as the dampness on Blaine's shirt presses against his stomach and reluctantly rolls over. He stands and stretches his arms as he pads over to his drawers, pulling out a non-descript white t-shirt which he throws to Blaine. "I won't look," he says when Blaine catches it with one hand and stares hesitantly at it, "but I refuse to snuggle when you're all damp with come," Kurt says through a smile, his body flooding with relief when Blaine smiles back.

Kurt turns back to face the drawers, opening another and sliding into a pair of clean boxers, trying not to listen to the rustle of fabric as Blaine switches tops, fighting every urge to turn around and see Blaine completely striped bare, literally and emotionally. But he doesn't, he remains facing the wall until he hears a whispered, "you can turn around now."

And he does so with a smile on his face before crossing back to his bed, falling down next to Blaine who has also pulled his boxers back on. He shuffles over to him and notices a stiffness in Blaine's movements, a hesitancy in his touch as he fingers the hem of the borrowed shirt. But Kurt just sidles over and wraps an arm around his waist, wriggling impossibly closer and snaking his other arm beneath Blaine, hearing his sigh in relief as he too inches closer, their bodies pressing together as Blaine's smile presses into his neck.

* * *

**A/N: I want to end with a huge, _huge _apology for the wait because this took far too long. ****There's just something I don't like about this chapter but I can't put my finger on it and that's partly why I've taken longer to post it. Eventually I gave up.**** I also want to says thanks to everyone reading and especially to those reviewing, and as clichéd as it is... you make my day :)**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N:** **I'm sorry this has taken so, _so _long. But, it's here now and I'm back on track and you should thank Lis (aworldoflis on tumblr) because if it wasn't for her, well, I don't know when this update would have been. And I'm pretty sure it would have been completely different. **

**But, well, assuming you've all hung around, thank you so much for waiting and still reading and I hope you enjoy :)**

* * *

The next day Kurt's stood at the stove, giving the pasta a quick stir before continuing with the sauce, shaking his head, unable to wipe the smile off his face as beside him Blaine rambles on. He's heaved himself up onto the countertop beside where Kurt's working, his feet swinging, heels knocking against the cupboards beneath, hands motioning wildly as he talks animatedly about various Broadway shows.

"You're so _wrong _though," Kurt interrupts, stopping Blaine mid speech. And Blaine just gapes, eyes widening in shock, "Wicked is a much better show than-"

"Oh my god, are you two _still_ arguing about which musical is better?" Cooper sighs, wandering into the kitchen, rolling his eyes when both Kurt and Blaine turn to glare at him. "What? You've been talking about it for like, two hours; can we have a change of subject?"

"Look Coop, just because you don't appreciate the importance of-"

"Yeah yeah, whatever Kurt," Cooper dismisses with a wave of his hand, swatting at Blaine when he scowls. "What did you guys do today anyway?" Coop asks, grabbing a can of soda from the fridge, opening it with a fizz before gulping it down.

While Cooper's back is turned Blaine and Kurt can't help but share small smiles, both feeling heat flush their faces at the memory of Kurt pinning Blaine against the windows which line one wall of the apartment, tugging him up onto the windowsill and slipping between his legs. They both remember the press of hands over their bodies, beneath clothes and over convulsing skin. They both remember the smiles they'd shared, the widening of their pupils and the sudden sparks of adrenaline in their blood as theirs lips crashed together, their bodies moulding and falling into an almost familiar dance.

Blaine had tugged Kurt's thin pyjama top off without asking and kissed his jaw, his neck, shoulders, ducking his head, down his chest, sucking a nipple between his lips and learning a whole new array of sounds which Kurt's body can make. He learnt how to make Kurt's hands tighten in his scalp, his hips buck fast, his head tip back and eyes flutter closed and god, if Kurt falling apart against him, _because of him, _isn't the best sight and sound and feeling in the world, then he doesn't know what is.

And then, of his own accord, he'd slid his hand inside Kurt's pyjama pants, over his dick, hard and straining in his boxers. He'd watched Kurt's eyes widen and his breath come quicker and the beautiful contrast of his white teeth against bitten-red lips as they closed around the flesh. He'd gulped down his nerves and shifted closer, winding his legs tight around Kurt and dragging his lips down to his own. He'd pushed Kurt's pyjamas and boxers away completely while Kurt did the same to him, the wood of the windowsill cold on his bare skin as Kurt rolled their hips together, the friction between their bare cocks dry but delicious and head spinningly good.

And when they both came it was with each other names on their lips and tastes on their tongues, Blaine's head smacking back against the window as he moaned, bucked, and hoped the neighbours couldn't see anything while Kurt writhed against him, boxers and pyjamas pooled around his ankles, one hand around their dicks, other hand splayed possessive across Blaine's collarbones through his tank, holding him against the glass and claiming him.

They both slumped, eventually, bodies slick with sweat, Blaine against the window, Kurt against him, his breath hot on his shoulder, Blaine's legs still wound around his hips, and if it wasn't for that small hold he had around him Kurt would have probably fell to the floor mid orgasm. For a while they just breathed, against and around each other, Blaine's fingertips running lines along Kurt's spine while he felt his heart rate lower, the sweat and come on his body drying while Kurt's hands remained on him, one on his heaving chest, above his heart, the other hand fallen to his bare thigh.

After a few minutes Blaine had tilted his head back, staring at Kurt's pink cheek pressed against his shoulder, scrunched up, eyes closed and lips open and just breathing and holding and relaxing. Blaine thought he looked beautiful and wanted to say so, but the words felt heavy in his throat so he swallowed them down. Instead he carded a hand through Kurt's hair, watched his eyes part sleepily, blinking dazedly up before Kurt had swiped their lips together. One final dozen times before extracting himself from Blaine's limbs and kisses. Shuffling back he pulled up his underwear and cotton pyjama bottoms and steadied Blaine when he stood, legs a little numb from cramp, from how tight a hold he'd had around Kurt. Blaine pulled his own boxers back up and met Kurt's smile, and smiled a little himself and tiptoed, asking for a kiss.

Which Kurt had happily given.

In the few seconds it takes for Cooper to turn back around they manage to dip their heads and hide their smiles, and Kurt has enough sense to respond, telling Cooper they'd been to the Rockefeller Center, which they had, after their morning together.

"What?" Cooper whines, "you went Rockefeller Center without me?" his brow furrows comically and Kurt can't help but be surprised by his pouting, shooting a look to Blaine who looks just as confused.

"Yeah, but we- we can go again, all of us, if you want Coop. We only really went on the observation deck," Kurt tries to assure him, slightly bewildered by just how genuinely upset Cooper seems.

"I missed out on _the observation deck_?" Cooper groans, pouting again and looking far more upset than a grown man should do, given the circumstances.

"But I-" Kurt stops , frowning deepening, "Cooper, you don't like heights," he tries to remind him.

But Cooper just shrugs and takes another sip of his drink, "I like views though," he eventually says, shooting Kurt a hopeful little smile.

"Oh my god," Kurt eventually sighs, "you're impossible," he rolls his eyes when Cooper widens his eyes, pleading. "Okay fine," Kurt gives in, "we can go on the friggin' observation deck again, my god," he groans, but can't help smiling when Cooper does a little victory dance.

"You're the best," Cooper says as he walks by, grabbing Kurt's face and pulling him sideways so he can plant a wet kiss on his cheek, laughing when Kurt squirms away and scowls at him, wiping his cheek with the back of his hand, looking thoroughly disgusted. Kurt catches Blaine's eye and sees something flash briefly over his face, but before he can even so much as think about it it's gone, replaced with his usual care free smile.

"You're repulsive," Kurt mutters, turning his attention back to dinner as Cooper saunters over to heave himself up onto the counter beside Blaine, bumping him with his shoulder until he turns his head and smiles.

/

They eat dinner in front of the TV, Kurt and Blaine on the couch, Blaine's legs crossed beneath him, knee just touching Kurt's thigh. And maybe Blaine's sat a little closer than wholly necessary, using it as an excuse to touch Kurt, but it's not enough to raise suspicion from Cooper who's sat on the floor, back against the couch, coffee table pulled close enough to rest his plate on while he eats.

Blaine finishes his food and leans down, sliding his plate onto the small table before sitting back. He sees Kurt watching him out of the corner of his eye and sends him a small smile before looking away; trying to concentrate on the film they're watching.

But it's hard, with Kurt so close and yet so very off limits. There is literally less than a foot between their bodies, and that small square inch where they're touching is enough to make Blaine have to slip his hands into the bend behind his knees because it would be so simple, so quick and easy, to just reach out and take Kurt's hand. Just to hold it in his own and feel the warmth which he's growing more and more familiar with, to see the little eye roll Kurt would no doubt do, followed by Blaine's favourite little half smile.

But he can't. Because Kurt's out of bounds. So instead he sighs, under his breath, not loud enough to raise attention to himself, before tugging on one of the blankets folded across the back of the sofa, all piled there ready to make Blaine's bed up when the time comes. He pulls it over himself before snuggling down onto the couch, his head on the arm rest, legs pressed up close to his chest because he really doesn't want Kurt to move further away. He spreads the blanket over himself, snuggles down into it, pulls it to his chin and breaths out, long and deep and satisfying, feeling his aching muscles relax as he settles into the warmth of the blanket, which is nice, but not nearly as nice as the heat of Kurt's body.

He feels Kurt shift where he's sat near his feet, and then there's a warm palm squeezing his socked foot. He cocks his head up for a second, sees Kurt grin a little, before he slips his hand away, attention on the TV again.

/

Blaine wakes to an alarm, blaringly loud and unfamiliar and all around him. He swings an arm out, aiming uselessly for whatever might be making the noise before opening his eyes, seeing a phone on the coffee table which is definitely not his. He quickly shuts it up and throws it back down after checking the time, seeing he's awake far earlier than the past three mornings.

And without the ringing of the alarm the apartment is surreally quiet around him. It takes him a moment to come round, but when he does he rolls over and immediately notices the rough scratch of denim on his legs. It's only then that he remembers falling asleep fully clothed the previous night, mid film, Kurt's body teasingly warm and just out of reach.

He throws his blanket away, tangled around his limbs before stumbling to stand up and stretching, feeling his spine crack and his shoulders ache from being cramped up all night. A yawn rips through his body and leaves him with that fuzzy feeling in his muscles, not quite awake yet as he rubs at his gritty eyes, runs a hand through his knotted hair.

He checks the time again on what he now realises is Kurt's phone, and wonders why on earth the alarm is set for so early when Kurt has no reason to get up. Falling back onto the couch he stretches his limbs, rotates his ankles. He really wants to shower, get out of yesterdays clothes and wash his crumpled hair and scrub his skin, but he can't, because all his clothes are foolishly kept in Cooper's room and he really, _really _doesn't want to wake Cooper up early.

So instead he grabs his pyjamas from where they're folded over the sofa back, changing into them as quickly as possible, feeling frighteningly exposed in the middle of the living room, the long stretch of windows only adding to his ill ease, even though he knows no one can see him through them.

Luckily not long later Cooper wakes and wanders into the bathroom, giving Blaine the chance to go in his room and pick his clothes out for the day. This is almost always the part of the day which Blaine worries most over, because he wants to look nice, obviously, but he also wants to look hot, for Kurt, but he has no idea what looks hot, other than everything Kurt wears.

So he worries and stresses and pulls his hair out over it, before giving up and settling on something he knows at least matches. Cooper then dashes in with just a towel around his hips and begins pulling on his own clothes.

"What the fuck?" Blaine asks, completely dumbfounded, because could he not have waited until Blaine had left the room?

"What?" Cooper asks, looking up from where a t shirt is half pulled over his head, face framed by the neck hole. And Blaine just rolls his eyes and shakes his head, which makes Cooper bark with laughter, "Blaine, we're brothers, it's nothing you've never seen before," he scoffs, straightening the fabric over his chest.

Blaine can't help the little squeak of indignation which escapes his mouth, before he stutters over a reply, "the last time I saw your- your _y'know,_" he nods pointedly at the towel wrapped not all that tightly around his brother's hips, "I was like, six, and I'm pretty sure it scarred me for life then so, can you just, _not,_" he asks, grabbing his own clothes before scurrying out the room and into the bathroom. But despite how fast he moves, there's no way he could have missed Cooper's howl of laughter.

When he finally emerges, scrubbed clean and hair damp he's surprised to find the apartment eerily quiet again. He checks Coop's room, and the little hallway outside the apartment, and then Coop's room again, just for good measure. But his brother's definitely gone, his shoes absent from the shoe rack, thin summer jacket gone from the back of the chair he always throws it over.

And Blaine can't help the gleeful little smile which spreads over his face at the realisation that he is very much alone, with a sleepy, groggy, bed-warm Kurt at his disposal. He moves as quietly as possible to Kurt's room and pushes the door open gently, sliding in and holding his breath.

And there Kurt is, still asleep, sprawled out, sheets tangled around him, shirtless and sleep mussed and unfairly sexy, all things considered. He's on his back, one arm behind his head, the other splayed on the empty side of his bed, the lines of his ribs visible beneath soft skin, the rhythm of his breathing gently disturbing the calm silence.

Blaine creeps closer, crawls onto the bed and over to Kurt. He wants to lie down beside him, but thinks that might be kind of creepy, so instead he reaches out and tentatively grazes his index finger along Kurt's brow, watching the flicker of Kurt's face as he responds to the touch. Blaine traces down his nose, back up and along his hairline, down his temple, cheek, jaw, all the way to his chin, his heart pounding when Kurt's lips part beneath his touch. Just slightly, enough to enrapture Blaine's attention though, meaning he misses the slow blink of Kurt's eyes as he wakes, blissfully blue and unfocused.

A smile curls Kurt's lips, and that's what alerts Blaine to him having woken up. And as his eyes dart up, locking with Kurt's, he feels a hand rise and press against the small of his back, dipping gently beneath the fabric of his shirt to push him down slightly. And Blaine obliges, allowing himself to lean down, to press his lips against Kurt's, feeling the near silent hum of pleasure which escapes Kurt's lips, his fingers slipping just beneath the tight waistband of Blaine's jeans to trace the warm skin there.

Kurt's other hand moves from behind his own head and slides up Blaine's thigh, curling around his hip and pulling encouragingly until Blaine gets the message and swings his leg over Kurt's thighs, straddling him and leaning down to slip their lips together again.

It's strange, Blaine thinks, to not even have to speak to a person before kissing them, before straddling them and allowing your hands to roam over their naked skin, allowing your body to succumb to their touch.

Blaine brackets his forearms either side of Kurt's head, sliding his tongue along the seam of his lips while both of Kurt's hands wind around his body, fitting perfectly to the shape of his ass. Kurt's lips part gently beneath his, allowing his tongue to press in, licking against Kurt's. Blaine's mouth curls unintentionally into a smile as he hears Kurt hum beneath him.

Blaine's pulls away then, looking down at the man beneath him, lips wet and eyes still groggy as one hand reaches up, sliding through Blaine's still-damp curls, slipping behind his ear and pulling him down so their lips are millimetres apart, wet and warm and so close as Kurt whispers, "hi," into Blaine's mouth, the hand in his hair tangling at the nape of his neck, craning up to graze their lips together again.

Moaning at the touch Blaine lowers his hips slightly, searching for friction as his not surprisingly hard cock strains against his zipper. He feels Kurt's legs shift beneath him, kicking the sheet off his lower body until they're ruffled at his feet. He then spreads his legs, hands on Blaine's hips shifting him until he's lying between Kurt's thighs, lowering his weight onto him, unable to stop the moan which ripples through his body at the sensation of their clothed dicks rubbing together.

Kurt hands then scrape up his back, over his shirt, nails digging in gently and Blaine shudders at the sensation, a brief second of self-consciousness about his scars evaporating as Kurt's fingers close tight over his shoulders, pulling him closer. Kurt drags Blaine's bottom lip between his teeth, sharp and soft into the cavern of his mouth, and Blaine can't help the quick thrust of his hips as desire unspools down his spine, settling low in his stomach.

Kurt finally pulls back then, blinking his eyes open blearily, a slow smile curling his lips. His hands relax on Blaine's shoulder and smooth up towards his neck, cupping the bare skin, thumbs rubbing over his jaw bone. "Best alarm clock ever," Kurt mutters drowsily, feeling his heart leap when Blaine's face breaks into a wide, honest, heart-breaking smile right above him.

Kurt rolls them then, gently forcing Blaine onto his side next to him and pressing as close as physically possible, forcing a knee between Blaine's and winding a hand around his back, pressing kisses to the humming skin of his throat. "Speaking of alarms," Kurt mumbles, "you seen my phone anywhere?"

"Yeah, living room," Blaine sighs, beginning to rock his hips forward against Kurt's, ducking his head, sliding their lips together again.

Kurt smiles and obliges and kisses back, parting his lips and moaning when Blaine's tongue presses in, tasting freshly of mint as Kurt strokes his fingers absently over Blaine's neck. He traces behind his ear, feeling the boy shiver and smile against him, lips becoming increasingly desperate. Kurt opens his mouth a little more and allows Blaine to push him on to his back again, leaning up and over him, Blaine's hands splaying and spreading over his naked skin as his hips rolls desperately forward, Kurt's fingers drawing patterns against his throat.

They roam down Blaine's neck and over the front of his shoulders, dipped down over his collarbones, sharp and jutting with the angle, and Kurt can feel the movement of Blaine's chest against his finger tips as he slots two fingers beneath the hem of his collar, two buttons already open. He fingers the third button open and gasps on a particularly hard thrust, head falling back a little, feeling heat build in his stomach, intensified when he sees Blaine's proud smirk, before their mouths slam together again.

Kurt's more desperate now, flicking open the next button as Blaine nips on his bottom lip, his jaw, down his neck, Kurt's head falling back with a loud moan because shit, when did Blaine figure this out? And Blaine pulls back and grins again, like he knows exactly what effect he's having.

But Kurt's not playing that game. He flips them, quickly, Blaine landing with a huff, sprawled on his back, Kurt hovering over him, weight on his chest and stomach and crotch, and yeah, Kurt definitely prefers this position. Much prefers the startled look in Blaine's eyes and the tremor in his hands, the unrestrained moan when Kurt rocks his hip down tantalisingly slowly.

He leans forward to kiss him but keeps his eyes open, watches Blaine's eyelashes flutter as his own close, his lips puckering to meet Kurt's, and then Kurt moves, his lips pressing against Blaine's jaw and trailing down his neck, hearing Blaine mutter 'tease' above him before Kurt nibbles along his newly exposed collarbones, down the inches of his sternum. He pops open another button and pushes the left side of Blaine's shirt away, kissing over to his nipple, feeling Blaine's body suddenly go rigid beneath him.

Kurt flicks his eyes up, questioning, and it's only when he sees the sudden fear in Blaine's eyes that he remembers and realises this is toeing a line they're yet to cross, a line which Blaine very obviously does not _want_ to cross.

"I'm sorry," Kurt says with kisses into the warm skin stretched beneath him, moving his mouth back over to the centre of Blaine's chest, pulling the shirt back over Blaine's skin.

"I-" Blaine tries to speak above him, tangles his fingers loose in Kurt's messy hair and looks down, searching for the words, because he really wants to. But he just can't. "I'm sorry," he eventually concedes, feeling more childish than ever.

But Kurt just shakes his head, rests his chin on Blaine's sternum and stares up, smiling slowly, "you don't need to apologise, my brain just doesn't work quite right when I've just woken up, and especially not when there's a gorgeous guy spread out beneath me," he tries to lighten the mood, pressing more kisses up Blaine's body until he reaches his lips.

Blaine bites his kissed-red lips and tries to smile before speaking, "can we er- can we carry on but just, just not do _that_?" he asks, voice so hopeful and pleading that Kurt can't hold back his rising smile.

"Gladly," Kurt says after a second, before sinking back down over Blaine's body, hot and sweltering and perfect.

/

It turns out Kurt has a plan for the day, and this plan is apparently a lot more exciting that his food shopping one.

He resolutely does not tell Blaine where he's taking him though, before bustling him onto the subway, keeping him close in the streams of people. But a secret can only be kept for so long, and as soon as the train begins to slow at their stop, the loudspeaker overhead announces their destination, and Blaine's head snaps round to stare at Kurt so quick that Kurt wouldn't be surprised if he'd caused serious damage.

But he's obviously unharmed, if the gleam in his eyes is any indication, as well as the slow upward curve of his lips and the bounce in his step as he hops off the train.

And as much as Kurt knows he should find his easy amusement and enthusiasm annoying, really he just finds it endearing. But he rolls his eyes for good measure, earning the usual hip bump from Blaine as they leave the station, out into the bustling streets of Times Square.

Blaine's head cranes back and his smile widens as he walks forward. Kurt lets him have his awestruck moment, that first view of the New York he's no doubt dreamt about, just as Kurt had. And Kurt can't help but watch, a small smile on his own lips. But Blaine's still walking, inching forward step by step, head averted to the sky, not watching his step, and it only takes Kurt a second to realise and swing his arm out, grabbing Blaine's wrist and yanking him back from the road he very nearly walks straight on to. Blaine jolts back, surprised, eyes scared for a moment before he finds Kurt, feeling his cheeks redden with embarrassment, watching Kurt shake his head before sighing.

Blaine can't help but laugh then, stepping away from the road and closer to Kurt, smiling up at him, Kurt's fingers still wrapped warm around his wrist. "My hero," Blaine coos, mirth sparkling in his eyes as he smirks, leaning up on tiptoes to plant a kiss on Kurt's cheek.

"Idiot," Kurt mumbles, pushing him away and releasing his wrist, turning to walk away before a grin erupts traitorously over his face.

Blaine catches up though, his laughter high and carefree as he beams at Kurt.

Kurt had thought they could actually go 'properly shopping', as Blaine keeps referring to it, while they're here, but it turns out Blaine's desire to sit on the red steps is much higher than his need for new bowties.

So instead Kurt leads them to the famous red staircase, trying his best to keep up with Blaine's monologue beside him a he rambles on at high speed, words tangling and tripping over each other in their excitement to be spoken.

Finally they reach the steps and climb to the top at Blaine's insistence, before both sighing as they sit down. Blaine crosses his legs beneath himself, making him look even younger, and stares unashamedly amazed at the lights and posters and people around them, unable to hide his smile when he catches Kurt's eye.

And Kurt, for his part, can't help but watch the unbridled happiness sweep over the younger boys face. So he takes the opportunity, when Blaine's facing forward, to gently remove his phone from his pocket and snap a quick picture of the boy sat looking both content and thrilled. The artificial shutter sound makes Blaine's head snap round, just in time to see Kurt scrunch his face into a smile at the picture he's just taken.

"What'd you do that for?" Blaine whines, moving to swipe the phone out of his hand.

But Kurt just turns his back on him, thumbs flying over his screen as he attaches it to a message, Blaine's arms tucking tight around his body as he grapples for the small device.

"Oh my god, who're you sending it too?" Blaine almost screams in his ear as he practically climbs onto his back, making laughter erupts from Kurt's chest as he clicks send. And then suddenly Blaine's fingers are digging into his stomach and ribs and ripping screams and laughter from Kurt's body, his finger incessantly tickling and reaching for the phone.

Kurt doubles over, feeling tears swell in his eyes, his stomach cramping, Blaine's breath hot on his neck where he's now kneeling behind Kurt, tickling him harder as one hands weaves over Kurt's own, Blaine's fingers closing determined around his phone.

"Okay, okay, you win, just- oh god just stop," Kurt all but chokes through laughter, lungs void of air as Blaine's arms disappear from around him. Kurt slumps into himself, rubbing his hands up his sides to ease the pain, turning to watch Blaine flick through his phone.

"Oh god," Blaine eventually groans, "you sent it to my _dad_?" he whines, holding the phone up, the picture of his own grinning face on screen, as he pouts next to it. And the gleeful look of his face on screen compared to his sad little frown in real life is enough to make Kurt double over again, laughing loud and unrestrained, wiping under his eyes at the fresh tears which build.

"Your dad'll love it," Kurt says, taking his phone back with a smile.

"He'll be at work and he'll probably show everyone in the office," Blaine grimaces "and oh god," he whinges when he turns to face Kurt again, "he'll probably print it out and stick it on the fridge and it's all yo-"

Blaine's speech is cut off mid word as Kurt's lips seal over his own, stealing the air from his lungs and taking with it every thought of that picture, until all that remains in Blaine's head is a diatribe of _kurtkurtkurtkurtkurt, _that one syllable repeating and leaking through his blood as he kisses back, hands tangling automatically in Kurt's hair.

It's chaste really, compared to the dozens of other kisses they've now shared, but it's something a whole lot more. Because this kiss, in the middle of one of the busiest places in the world, in front of hundreds of people, is literally just a kiss.

It isn't leading to more, to bare skin or blowjobs or even blushing, to touching and tasting and taking. It isn't part of that slow build to coming, the sharp shoot of desire down your spine and the tight grip of an orgasm before the springs snap and pleasure explodes within your body.

It's leading to nothing.

Nothing but lips on lips; kissing because you can, and you want to and why not?

So when Kurt pulls back a few inches, one hand on Blaine's thigh, the other cupping his jaw, his eyes are wide and a little shocked. Blaine licks his lips, searching for the taste of Kurt and drops his hands from Kurt's face to rest on his own lap. He watches Kurt swallow, leaning back a little more as his hand falls from Blaine's cheek to rest on Blaine's other thigh, inches from Blaine's own hands, Kurt's palms hot like brands through the denim. He watches Kurt's face duck, the flutter of his eyelashes, and then the beginning of a smile as it overtakes his lips when he looks up again.

"What was that for?" Blaine asks, voice dry from breathing through his mouth.

"Sorry I-" Kurt begins, "you were rambling and- and you looked all cute and flustered and I- yeah, sorry," Kurt eventually finishes, laughing under his breath and averting his eyes from Blaine's blistering stare. "It won't happen again," Kurt tries to promise.

Kurt misses the quick furrow of Blaine's brow, but he does hear the long breath he realises before he speaks, voice so low Kurt has to strain to hear.

"It won't?"

Kurt looks up slowly, "you want it to?" he asks, equally quiet.

"Well, isn't that sort of what we've been doing these past few days?" Blaine asks, trying to smile confidently while his insides churn.

"Well, I guess but, I didn't know whether you'd want me to- when we're- because we're not- and…" Kurt stumbles around what he's trying to say.

"I- I want you to," Blaine blurts, "I mean- if you want to, you can, I- I like it and, I don't care that we're here or, or that we're not…" he trails off with a shrug, a sudden lump forming in his throat, the words suffocating him to say.

"So you don't mind?" Kurt asks, feeling a grin creep across his face.

And Blaine shakes his head fervently, bottom lip caught between his teeth, the index finger of his right hand reaching out to gently touch Kurt's hand where it still lays heavy on his thigh. Kurt glances down at the touch, and Blaine watches the way his smile widens noticeably.

"Okay," Kurt eventually concedes, lacing their fingers together atop Blaine's leg and leaning forward, placing a string of dry kisses down Blaine's cheek before sealing his lips over the younger boys, swiping his tongue teasingly along the seam before inching back, grinning when Blaine blinks his eyes slowly open.

"Okay," Blaine parrots, unable to stop the smile which lights up his face, feeling his cheeks flame under Kurt's gaze.


	14. Chapter 14

They waste the rest of the day around Times Square, winding in and out of shops, around people and places, pausing to cross the street, kissing in that second of spare time before they dash across the road, their hands clasped and slightly sweaty between them.

Blaine can't stop grinning; that adorable, dopey, wide-eyed grin which causes Kurt to smile every time he sees it, reminding him of the first time he came to Times Square and how he fell head over heels in love with it, and remembering too the first time he walked down the street holding another boys hand without being frightened.

They end up eating lunch in some swanky little café which is far too overpriced, the service and quality of their food considered, but they're both too distracted to notice or really care, their feet tangling beneath the table as they smile and laugh. And it takes them too long to eat because they keep pausing to laugh and tell this story and that story, to touch the others hand, wrist, forearm. To stretch their willing fingers across the gap between them to just feel the warmth of the others skin as their feet dance unpractised beneath the table.

Kurt finishes his lunch and finds himself watching the curve and grasp of Blaine's fingers around his cutlery. It's odd, he thinks, that he notices these little things with Blaine which he's never noticed with anyone else before. But he notices the fact that Blaine uses the wrong hands for his knife and fork and the awkward angles he cuts at, the way he chews on only his left side. And my god, if these normally unnoticed and overlooked little facts aren't strangely cute he doesn't know what is.

So when Blaine's finished and he puts his fork down, dabbing at his mouth with his serviette, thanking the waitress far too profusely before asking for the bill, Kurt can't help but slip off his loose brogue, creeping his toes up Blaine's shin. Over the hard bone beneath denim, around to the yielding muscles of his calf, up up up, until he bridges the contours of Blaine's knee to slink along the seam of his thigh.

Blaine's eyebrows rise incrementally with every inch closer Kurt gets to his dick, which as usual around Kurt is making his jeans more uncomfortable by the second. Blaine wriggles a little on his seat, picking up his glass of water because he needs to do something with his hands, his thighs parting a little of their own accord, inviting Kurt closer.

Kurt smiles slowly at him, eyes darting down to his lips and back up to his eyes quickly, watching his pupils grow wider, endlessly black. Kurt adds more force along his inner thigh before stroking over Blaine's cock, half hard and straining. He smirks triumphantly when Blaine all but chokes on his water, eyes wide and lip automatically bitten and body tensed, coiled tight with desire and want and can-we-get-out-of-here.

But Kurt just continues stroking over Blaine's cock, eyes locked on Blaine's who looks stunned and speechless and so innocently sexy as Kurt's toes creep incrementally away, back down his thigh, along the line of his jeans before moving up again, until he feels Blaine's cock hardening more against his toes, a small whine and gasp escaping Blaine's throat with the contact.

The bill arrives and before Kurt has time to so much as look at it, Blaine has slammed some notes on the table, stood up, grabbed Kurt's hand and all but dragged him from the café.

They stumble out into the blazingly bright, dazzling light of day and Times Square and are both momentarily stunned. Blaine looks at Kurt and Kurt stares right back, 'what're we doing now?' Kurt silently asks.

And if the way Blaine's hand grabs and grips to Kurt's is any indication he can only guess they're heading home. There is no where in the world Kurt would rather be going.

So they stumble along the street, weaving between people, Kurt shooting smiles over his shoulder, seeing Blaine bite his apple-red lips and wanting nothing more than to sink his teeth into the flesh himself, to feel Blaine hot and hard and wanting against him.

Their hands are twined between them, knotted and coiled and holding tight so as to not get separated as Kurt drags them between hundreds of obsolete bodies, Blaine's thumb thrumming a rhythm against his knuckle. And god it's too much, it's like a clock counting down to a bomb and the bombs about to explode as Kurt bolts around a corner, into a small alley, dragging Blaine startled behind him.

"Where are we-"

Blaine's words are cut off mid sentence as Kurt pushes him against a wall, hard, his back against brick and body against body, lips against lips and moans sucked from chests, so very, _achingly_ willingly. Kurt presses closer, presses his thighs against Blaine's, his hips, his crotch, stomach, chest, hands on his neck, curved to his shoulder, holding him tight and unmoving and Blaine just opens up beneath Kurt and lets him take.

Blaine's hands are everywhere, wanting everything and every part and never satisfied as they feel their way over every slip and slope of Kurt's body, the juts and angles of his bones and the delicious, rounded tightness of his muscles, strong arms which hold him pressed against the wall. His hands settle on Kurt's tiny waist, down to his hips, slinking an inch below the fabric of his jeans as his body arches and my god, they're in the middle of the street, filthily making out against a brick wall and Blaine has never been so turned on in his life.

Eventually Kurt pulls back, after a million seconds and minutes and maybe even years, and he looks at Blaine with wide blown pupils through the filter of his lashes, his breath hot and sweet and heady on Blaine's lips when he whispers, "I want you."

"You have me," Blaine replies instantly, staring readily upwards, his body still caught between the firm, hot, yielding press of Kurt and the inescapable wall. Kurt smirks against his lips, his jaw, neck, collarbones as he sighs and sinks impossibly closer.

"Let's go home," Kurt suggests into Blaine's kissed-warm skin, as if they hadn't already been heading there.

But Blaine just nods, willing and wanting and pliant in Kurt's hands.

Kurt drags him from the wall, along the street and down steps and onto the subway, and it's literally heaving, bodies and more bodies, shouting and talking and music played too loud through earphones. So Kurt drags Blaine in front of him again, kisses his ear, "stay close," he says, as if Blaine would go anywhere.

They wait for their train and it's cramped and cluttered, which is just another excuse to stay inseparably close, pressed side to side, hand to hand, arm to arm, their bodies thrumming to the rhythm stretched taut and quivering between them. The train arrives and they bustle on and end up in the corner of the carriage, Kurt's back pressed into the right angle, Blaine caught in the slight V of Kurt's legs.

Blaine back is against Kurt's chest, ass to crotch and neck to lips and Kurt takes advantage of the situation. He slides an arm low and loose around Blaine waist and holds him close and can't resist slipping his lips along the hem of Blaine's shirt, along his sun-kissed skin, salty with sweat and sweet with shower gel, intoxicatingly enticing.

Blaine turns in his arms all of a sudden, caged in the angle of Kurt's spread legs, so gladly imprisoned as he steps forward, looking up so unknowingly, naively, innocently gorgeous, wanton and willing and Kurt feels his dick grow harder in his jeans, feels his hands tense at his sides and his breathing become shallower. Kurt never thought innocence would really be a _thing _for him, but with Blaine stood untouched and touchable in the cage of his limbs, long lashes and big eyes and fuck me hips, it takes all of Kurt's self control to not push him up against the sliding door and just absolutely ravish him.

But he doesn't, he can't, and the journey passes painfully, achingly slowly, their eyes catching and hands lingering and longing to stretch and touch and pull and god, it's never taken this long to get back to the apartment before.

But then they're there, the announcement calling their stop and Kurt throws his manners out the proverbial window as he pushes and shoves through the crowd, drags Blaine to street level, kisses him in the bright, open, ever-seeing daylight which swims around them and marvels at the shocks of desire which spark down his spine. As if he hasn't kissed Blaine a hundred times already.

They walk home quickly, in silence but for their hearts thumping in their ears, the howl of the city around them. Through the main door, into the elevator, lips and hands roaming unrestrained for the half a minute before Blaine drags Kurt by his lapels out, through the door, fiddling with the keys and dropping them on the floor.

The door slams shut of it's own accord as shoes are kicked from feet, flies fiddled with, undone but jeans not quite removed before Blaine pushes Kurt hard against the arm of the couch, making him topple, heaving Blaine's hot body on top of his.

And they're finally where they want to be. Together and alone all at once, the apartment empty and quiet and their bodies willingly succumbing.

They kiss, fast and filthy, lips and tongues and teeth and Blaine's on top, his weight wonderful and heavy and perfect against Kurt who spreads his legs, lets Blaine slot into the gap as his tongue slides along the seam of Kurt's lips, forcing it's way inside.

And Kurt likes it. Kurt likes that he's taking charge, likes that he's on top. Kurt likes being pressed down, held down. He likes Blaine's hands on his skin and lips on his skin and Blaine's crotch pressing down and fuck, he should not be this close already. He should not be moaning quite so loud and begging quite so insuccinctly and fuckfuckfuck when did Blaine learn to lick along the tendons of his necks, teeth closing around an earlobe as his hands run over his skin, rough and ready beneath Kurt's top.

Blaine swiftly unbuttons Kurt's shirt, reveals his chest and sinks his lips over the flush which has spread over Kurt's body. He pinches a nipple, sucks pale skin into his mouth, moans when Kurt bucks up, presses his own hips down in return as Kurt's eyes roll back. Blaine's nails are short but sharp on Kurt's shoulders and down his chest and along the tender, sensitive skin of his stomach, so close and so far and so so _so_ good and so not enough and oh-

Blaine's hips are pressing down, hard cocks rubbing together through denim and cotton and impatience and Kurt's hands skate down the slope of Blaine's spine, forcing their way beneath Blaine's jeans to cup his ass, to feel it firm in his palms, hard when he tenses as he thrusts and Kurt's neck falls back, exposed and exponentially increasing his pleasure with every tender-rough touch, as he bucks and arches and moans and wants

Because Blaine is so good above him, small and nimble but heavy, broad palms, sharp fingers, rocking hips and wet, roaming tongue, in Kurt's mouth, down his neck, around his nipple, everywhere all at once and Kurt can't keep up. His head is full of every touch and drag, every breathy gasp and moan and the sharp shoots of desire fissuring through his body, the smell of Blaine around him and his taste on his tongue and the dark, tangled mess of his hair as he presses his lips in worship down Kurt's sternum.

Kurt arches off the couch, over and over, pressing and wanting more, taking more, moans escalating in length and growing in volume and it just seems to encourage Blaine, whose body speeds up above him, hands everywhere and lips and tongue and teeth just tasting Kurt's skin, his hips canting and his dick pressing and his ass the perfect fit in Kurt's palms. Fire unfurls down Kurt's spine and a haze swims around the edges of his vision as he breaks and twists in the air and chokes on a moan.

He comes in his jeans for the first time in years with Blaine breathing and heaving, hot and heavy in his ear, hips rolling and pressing as Kurt's stomach muscles convulse, body writhing and head fallen back, eyes closed, lips open, welcoming Blaine's tongue as Kurt's hands tighten around the ass in his hands before he slumps, sated and sleepy and settled.

Blaine's hip roll one, two, three more times, his kiss turning to a gasp on Kurt's neck as he comes, long and drawn out and quivering against and above and around Kurt before be collapses in a heap, against the body beneath him, hot and loose and pliant, Kurt's heart beating beneath his ear.

Silence expands between them, comfortable and encompassing, and Kurt's hands slip from Blaine's jeans and settle on the small of his back, inching the fabric of his polo up the smallest degree to rub the bare skin there, downy with hairs and damp with sweat and Blaine mumbles something incoherent and garbled into his chest.

"What'd you say?" Kurt asks, voice gruff from moaning and low from exhaustion.

"You came first," Blaine repeats, turning his head gently to smile almost proudly at Kurt, stretching his back and unintentionally pressing his hips against Kurt's, making them both wince with the unwelcome wetness.

"Mm," Kurt mumbles into his hair, "I did," he says, unable to deny the truth, breathing in Blaine's smell and practically drowning in the now familiar scent. "I don't think I've come in my pants since I was a teenager," Kurt laughs.

"Same," Blaine deadpans, nuzzling his nose against Kurt's neck and feeling the vibrations of Kurt's laughter against his lips as he kisses the skin there.

Blaine's hand is splayed unintentionally over Kurt's heart, and in his palm he feels it beat, slowing down to normal as they both relax. A hand cards through his hair, long fingers and slightly scraping nails and he practically purrs beneath Kurt's touch, rolling his neck to press his head back further. He catches Kurt's eye and can't help but giggle, tucking his head into the crook of his neck and running his hand down the warm slope of Kurt's ribs.

"I know we left in a bit of a rush," Blaine starts, "but I really enjoyed Times Square," he admits.

Kurt laughs again, stroking down Blaine's neck as he replies, "I'm glad," is all he says.

"It's nice to be able to go with someone who's actually into like, Broadway and that," Blaine mumbles into Kurt's skin. "I mean, Coop would've gone with me but… I dunno," he shrugs and shifts a little above Kurt, "it's just better with someone who's into the same stuff," he tries to explain.

Kurt hums in agreement beneath him, happy to have made him happy. "Speaking of your brother," he says, tilting Blaine's face up to look at him, "we should probably get moving; I doubt he'll be much longer."

Blaine grumbles something under his breath before reluctantly detangling himself from Kurt, scrunching his face at the dampness in his underwear. "We should probably wash our pants as well," he suggests, as Kurt stands up, stretching his arms over his head and laughing again.

Kurt's shirt is still unbuttoned, exposing his long chest, accentuated when he stretches, pink nipples and the rungs of his ribs, warm skin stretched tight over the bones and Blaine gawks for a moment, feeling his cock begin to stir again as he stares at the sharp angles of Kurt's hip, unintentionally licking his lips.

"Too soon tiger," Kurt says through his stretch, watching Blaine's eyes roam hungrily over his body before Kurt pulls him by his shirt forward, sliding their lips together one final time. He shiver involuntarily as Blaine's hands slip over his bare skin, settling on his waist, fingers curling, thumbs rubbing just beneath his ribs.

"For you maybe," Blaine breaths against his lips, surging up onto his tiptoes for more.

But Kurt just laughs, holding him back with hands on his hips. "You're impossible," he says with a smile.

"I think the word you're looking for is insatiable," Blaine responds, settling for his neck instead, decorating it with kisses.

"Dork," Kurt rolls his eyes, pushing him away again, unable to wipe the grin off his face. And Blaine just smiles back, laughter in his golden eyes as he bites his bottom lip, and Kurt is struck again by how unknowingly, sinfully beautiful this boy is.

/

"So what big adventure have I missed out on today?" Cooper asks not long after getting home, jacket thrown over a chair before he wanders through the kitchen, grabbing a beer from the fridge and gulping it down.

Blaine fills him in on their day, leaving out certain details of course, getting over excited as he talks and ignoring his brother's numerous eye rolls, the glances Cooper and Kurt share when he gets particularly enthralled in his story.

When he finishes Cooper's grinning like an idiot, shaking his head at Blaine's enthusiasm. "Did you take the subway?" he then asks, glancing between the two of them. Blaine leant against the sofa back, Kurt on his laptop at the dining table they never use.

"Yeah, why?" Blaine asks, still smiling.

"Kurt, d'you remember Danny?" Cooper asks, turning to face Kurt.

Kurt stops typing mid word, his stomach beginning to churn unexplainably. "No…" he replies, looking up slowly, "Danny who?"

"Danny from my linguistics class? You met him at New Years I think."

Kurt's eyes narrow infinitesimally, staring at Cooper where he's stood waiting for an answer. "I remember him," he eventually replies, "why?"

Cooper does a weird half-shrug, takes another gulp of his beer, before replying, "I saw him earlier when I was leaving the library, he said he saw you on the subway."

Kurt's heart plummets through his feet as a lump rises in his throat, his fingers tense atop his keyboard and the rush of blood in his ears is almost deafening. But his face remains stoic, his expression blank, and he resists all temptations to dart his eyes over to Blaine, who he's pretty sure he saw almost fall from where he's perched on the sofa back.

"He did?" Kurt replies, struggling to keep his voice even as dread swims in his stomach.

Cooper nods, hazards a look at Blaine who more by luck than anything else just looks confused, not like his heart is pounding a hundred beats a minute as it really is. "Yeah," Cooper begins, "both of you actually," he glances between them again quickly, "he was being kind of weird to be honest," Cooper finishes, scrunching his nose slightly. And if Kurt wasn't on the verge of a heart attack he probably would have found it strangely adorable how similar the two brothers are.

But now's not the time for noticing similarities between the two of them.

"Weird how?" he asks, turning his attention back to his computer screen, trying to act uninterested. Out of the corner of his eye Kurt sees Cooper shrug before replying.

"I dunno," he scrunches his face again, looks over at Blaine and back to Kurt, "said you guys were like, all over each other or something."

Blaine gasps, small and shocked and to Cooper it sounds indignant, while to Kurt he knows it's fearful. Because Kurt feels the same. Feels the same wave of dread wash over his body, fear settling low in his stomach, anticipation making his hands shake and his jaw clench and his throat dry out. He turns his head slowly to look at Cooper, stood waiting for a reply, and Kurt hopes more than anything that his expression doesn't betray him to the war of emotions raging in his body.

"'All over each other?'" he repeats, words quiet and throat dry as he furrows his brow, trying to act confused when really he just feels sick. Because is this it? If Cooper knows, then it's all over.

No more kisses and smiles and touches. No more hands on Blaine's supple, warm body, over his skin and through his hair and around his dick. No more tangled limbs and giggles into necks and lessons in how to elicit the most beautiful sounds from Blaine, learning what makes him moan high and long, what makes him gasp.

"Yeah," Cooper replies, "he said you were bo-"

Kurt speaks over him swiftly, not needing to hear the details of what this friend may well have seen, "what the fuck Cooper," Kurt half-shouts, trying to hold onto the bravery and anger which has flooded his body. "Can I ask where we were when we were apparently_ 'all over each other'?_" Kurt sneers, gritting his teeth in what he hopes is a realistic portrayal of offended.

It seems to have worked though, if Cooper's startled face is any indication, "don't shoot the messenger Kurt, jeez. Said you were on line F," he shrugs again, glancing round at Blaine, who looks like a child watching his parents fight, eyes wide, knuckles white where they're gripping the sofa back.

"We weren't even on line F today," Kurt scowls, rolling his eyes as he turns back to his laptop, heart still thundering in his chest as he tries to lie his way out of Cooper's accusations.

"Why would you use a different line for Times Sqaure?" Cooper asks, frowning a little.

"We ended up walking quite a way for lunch so we had to get a different line, why does it matter what frigging line we got?"

"Alright Kurt, sorry, jeez," Cooper replies, shooting Blaine a 'what's up with this guy?' look. "It's not like I believed him anyway, no need to be a dick about it," Cooper says, rolling his eyes at Blaine, who opens his mouth as if to speak, and quickly closes it when Kurt talks.

"I am not _'being a dick about it'_," Kurt sneers, turning his attention back to Cooper, "I just don't like being accused of stuff I haven't done. Especially not because of a guy who hasn't got the common courtesy to check the people he's talking about are actually who he thinks they are," Kurt says in a huff, moodily shuffling on his chair, biting his cheek as he turns away.

"Why are you so angry about this?" Cooper asks, putting his beer down on the table beside Kurt's laptop, causing him to look up.

And Kurt stares up for a few seconds, into the face of his best friend, Blaine's older brother. And for the first time he wonders how Cooper would react if he knew. Not that he wants to find out.

"I'm not angry about it," Kurt says, trying to calm himself down now the initial threat of discovery seems to have worn off. "I just can't believe you believed him," he then says, looking away again, not quite brave enough to maintain eye contact.

Cooper laughs, picking his beer back up and sauntering over to Blaine, "I told you I didn't believe him," he says with a smile and another eye roll. "Not like little Blainey here is exactly your type anyway," he says, ruffling Blaine's hair and laughing loudly when his brother squirms away from him.

Kurt looks round again at that, sees the small smile which stretches Blaine's face when he looks at his brother, feels his own heart lurch at the way that same smile disappears as soon as he looks away, morphing into a frown, the corners turned down slightly. His hazel eyes slink slowly up for a second, locking with Kurt's, a strange, indecipherable shine in them before he blinks away rapidly.

Instead of saying anything in response though Kurt just laughs half heartedly, unable to take his eyes off Blaine, who looks suddenly smaller and more vulnerable than Kurt's ever seen him. Kurt watches the splay and grip of his hands where they remain holding the back of the couch, the way his curls fall loose over his forehead, the twitch of a fake smile when Cooper hip bumps him.

And Kurt wants nothing more than to go to him, to tilt his face up and kiss away his frown, to tell him Cooper has no idea what he's talking about and to make sure Blaine knows he's beautiful and wanted and _definitely_ Kurt's type. But he can't. So instead he turns away and tries to focus on the email he was writing and distract himself, but no matter how hard he tries he can't help but wonder how Cooper would react if he was to find out.

* * *

**A/N: Hi! I just wanted to write a little message and say that I know it might not seem like much is happening, but it is, trust me, it's all leading somewhere. And, of course, I want to say thank you to everyone reading and especially to everyone reviewing because you guys make me super happy :)**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Okay, before you start reading I know this is a bit all over the place but it was being a dick and would not go the way I wanted so I'm sorry, that it's a bit, er, messy, I guess. And other than that, thank you all so much for reading, and reviewing, it makes me so happy and I do the daftest little smile at reviews and things so, I hope you enjoy this chapter :)**

The morning of Cooper's final exam arrives seemingly out of the blue.

"Wish me luck then," Cooper calls as he drops his mug in the sink with a clatter.

"What?" Kurt asks, glancing up from his breakfast to frown at Cooper as he slips on his shoes, Blaine's bed-mussed head popping up over the back of the sofa where he's still lying, one cheek creased with the outline of his pillow.

"My exam is today," Cooper explains, far too happy for a man heading to a final exam.

"I've been here a week already?" Blaine asks, voice deep and rough before he yawns.

"Y'know what they say," Cooper says with a smile as he dashes over to Blaine, "time flies when you're having fun," he grabs Blaine's face in his hands and plants a kiss right on his nose, ruffling his already knotty hair, laughing when Blaine pushes him away, sinking out of sight back into his bed, grumbling under his breath.

"'Good luck Cooper, I hope you do well in your exam,'" Cooper sing-songs in a strangely good impression of his brother.

"Good luck Cooper, I hope you crash and burn in your exam," Blaine responds moodily, followed by the creak of springs, the wriggling of blankets just visible from where Kurt and Cooper are standing.

Cooper rolls his eyes when he looks to Kurt, who can't help but smile, allowing himself to be dragged into a hug. "If he continues to be a sulky little shit don't be afraid to smack him," Cooper whispers before pulling back.

Kurt laughs, glancing in Blaine's direction, watching the shape of the blankets distort as he tosses and turns beneath them. He then wishes Cooper good luck, real, break-a-leg good luck before saying bye to him at the door.

Kurt pushes the door firmly shut after Cooper's exit, listening to the lock slot into place before he turns, pressing his back to the cool wood. He stands there for a moment, face turned down to the floor, wondering where the past week has gone, before he pushes himself away and crosses to Blaine.

"Hey, what's up with you?" he says, climbing onto the bed, dragging the blankets away from where he assumes Blaine's head is, revealing rumpled curls and his scrunched up face.

"I'm sleeping," Blaine says, tugging at the blankets to no avail.

"No you're not," Kurt laughs, rolling Blaine unwillingly onto his back and grinning down at him. He's scrunchy and sleepy and groggy, eyes bleary and face pink on one side, skin so very hot to the touch when Kurt curls his fingers over his throat, around his neck to stroke soothingly behind his ear.

"I was," Blaine replies before a yawn rips through his body, limbs stretching and unfurling, spine arching like a cat in the sun before he slumps, body loose and supple with sleep, on the verge of too hot as his eyes slide open, honey-gold and blistering in the sun. "What?" he asks when Kurt just stares down at him, thumb rubbing behind his ear, a small, indecipherable smile curling his lips.

But Kurt just shakes his head, widens his smile, averts his eyes and says, "nothing," before moving to lie down beside Blaine, sidling up to him to kiss down his neck, revelling in his small giggle.

"No, Kurt," Blaine says through his smile, "what is it?" he asks, concerned.

"Nothing," Kurt shakes his head, leans up on one elbow, kissing over Blaine's jaw, "I'm being stupid," he smiles, moving to slide his lips over Blaine's. But Blaine moves out of reach, curls onto his side, places his hands on Kurt's chest and tries to read his expression. "Honestly," Kurt tries to laugh, "it's nothing, now kiss me," he asks, trying to smile, finally getting his mouth on Blaine's.

And any ideas Blaine had about pushing the conversation evaporate like smoke when Kurt's lips close over his own, wet and warm and so very welcome. He allows himself to be pushed onto his back, shifts his legs when he feels Kurt move to hover half on top of him, their thighs and hip bones pressing together as Kurt slips his tongue into his mouth, unable to hold back the shudder that shakes his body.

Kurt leans back at that, smiles slowly and moves to hover more completely over Blaine, parting the boys thighs with his knee, slotting his legs between Blaine's and leaning down, their bodies pressed so tight together, hot beneath Blaine's blankets, growing hotter between kisses as Blaine's hands slide reverent under Kurt's t-shirt, up his sides, pushing it over his head.

Kurt's hips press him down, sinfully slowly, pulling gasps from Blaine's lips which he captures with his own, kissing over his jaw and mouthing at his neck, smiling when Blaine bucks beneath him, so easy to pick apart, so beautiful to watch fall to pieces.

/

Day is just bleeding into night by the time they leave the cinema, the sky an abundance of dusky pinks and burnt oranges, high buildings imposing silhouettes around them as they wander down the street.

Blaine and Cooper are both babbling away as they walk, both reciting quotes from the film they've just seen, voices loud and laughter even louder as the three of them weave between other people, Cooper caught in the middle of Kurt and Blaine, his attention focused almost wholly on his brother as Kurt just watches people pass them by, smiling every so often as snippets of their enthusiasm reach his ears.

The streets are crowded and busy, and when Blaine looks up at Cooper one time, laughing at a joke, he doesn't see the person in front of him. Their bodies jostle each other, Blaine's shoulder against the mans chest, his small frame taking the brunt of the hit, neck jolting as the much taller man turns, "sorry kid," he apologises, grabbing Blaine's elbow to stop him tripping on a loose paving stone. "Didn't see you," he says with a rushed smile, releasing Blaine's elbow, glancing up at Cooper who'd grabbed Blaine's other arm on instinct.

However Cooper's hand on Blaine tightens protectively when Cooper sees who the man is.

"It's fine," Blaine says with a smile, but the guy isn't even looking at him anymore, his eyes trained on Cooper.

"Long time no see Coop," he says, smiling widely, showing off rows of perfect white teeth, Blaine completely forgotten as he holds a hand out for Cooper to shake.

But Cooper just glares at him, tightens his hold on Blaine's arm and pulls him gently back, away from the man. "Julian," Cooper says, making no move to shake the guy's hand.

Julian, who ever he is, seems unperturbed however, dropping his hand with a shrug. His eyes dart briefly to look at Blaine, back to Cooper, before doing a double take, widening with surprise when he meets Blaine's gaze. His eyes linger on Blaine's face momentarily as the boy stares up, wide eyed and pink lipped, undeniably pretty, before allowing them to slink appreciatively over his small body. The polo Blaine's wearing is clinging over his chest, drawing attention to his tiny waist, tucked into his tight jeans at his small hips, the outline of the muscles just visible as they disappear below his waistband. Julian's smile turns lecherous as he arches one eyebrow, looking back up into Blaine's eyes and smirks almost in triumph at the confusion and innocence so evident in them.

"And who're you?" he says to Blaine, angling towards the smaller boy, not missing the way Cooper's chest balloons with protectiveness

"Who he is is none of your fucking concern," Cooper says, stepping half in front of Blaine and glaring, jaw tightening incrementally with each degree wider Julian's smile gets.

"Well he's sent my gaydar absolutely _ringing, _so I'd _very_ much like to find out who he is," Julian replies, eyes lingering on Blaine's narrow hips and lean thighs, before he angles his lips to whisper in Cooper's ear. "and just how loud he screams," the words are just loud enough for Blaine to hear, making him frown, feeling his stomach churn as he takes an automatic step back.

Cooper steps more firmly in front of Blaine; hands tightening into fists as Julian crowds into his personal space, shooting smiles over his shoulder to Blaine, who just watches hopelessly from behind Cooper's tensing body, confused by who this guy is.

He's tall, Blaine notices, taller even than Cooper, big, muscled shoulders and strong forearms. His chest is wide and stretching the fabric of his shirt, pinched in at his narrow waist and hips, long, lean legs, wrapped in sinfully tight jeans. His hair is messy and blond, swept back artfully, effortlessly from his face, wide, piercing green eyes which mentally undress Blaine with every look. Blaine feels his skin crawl beneath the man's attention, wraps an arm around himself, self conscious and not at all flattered.

"Guy's what happened? I got half way down the-" Kurt arrives behind Blaine, who feels his body flood with relief at the sound of Kurt's voice, feels his presence behind him, solid and real and _there_. Kurt takes one look at Cooper's face before his speech falters, following his line of sight to where Julian stands, tall and smirking and, despite the circumstances, undeniably gorgeous, illuminated by the burning, dying sky behind him.

"Ah, should've known you wouldn't be too far away Kurt," Julian croons, eyes raking admiringly over Kurt's slim, slender body, pale skin bright in the growing darkness. "Have you missed me?" he asks, voice an octave lower, eyes dark and sultry, waiting.

Blaine snaps his head back, looking over his shoulder at where Kurt is frozen behind him, mouth slightly parted, eyes wide and shocked, his throat working to swallow before he drops his eyes from Julian's. He glances once at Blaine, then at Cooper, before speaking, "can we go, guys, please?" he begs.

"Gladly," Cooper agrees, glowering at Julian one final time before making to walk off.

"Hey, no wait, come on, don't ruin all the fun," Julian laughs, rolling his eyes at Kurt and Cooper before leaning out to take hold of Blaine's wrist as he moves to follow his brother. "We were just getting to know each other," he smiles down at Blaine, taking a step closer, fingers curling around the wrist in his hand, small in his large palm, the skin soft, pulse racing, "weren't we babe?" he drawls, eyes flicking up to Kurt to read his reaction.

Anger spikes through Kurt's body so fast he feels it to the tips of his fingers, the rapid tha-thump of his heart in his ear almost deafening as he steps forward instantly, closer to Blaine, his chest almost against his back. One hand curls unthinkingly, protective and possessive around the curve of Blaine's waist as he glowers at Julian, teeth clenched and eyes shining, free hand balling into a fist by his side.

Blaine tries in vain to tug his hand away from Julian, pressing back into Kurt, feeling his own heart pound in his chest because who the fuck is this guy? And then Cooper's there, hand closing over Julian's forearm, nails digging into the muscle, almost drawing blood, knuckles white with the strength behind them as he grits his teeth, gets right up in Julian's face, "let, him, go," he says, enunciating each word, venom lacing each syllable.

Julian releases Blaine's wrist, raises his hands as if to surrender, but he's still smirking, as if he's just won a game none of them knew they were playing, mocking them in his own way as he takes a step back. He glances at Kurt one final time, eyes darting to his hand tight on Blaine's waist, the nonexistent gap between their bodies, the obvious way Blaine has pressed back against him. He smiles, locks eyes with Kurt, darting back to Cooper before he speaks, "I wouldn't worry about me if I were you, looks like someone beat me to him," Julian smirks, nods behind Cooper's back, winking at Kurt and revelling in the scowl his words elicit from him, before turning.

He sends all three of them a wave, a wink for Blaine and a knowing look for Kurt before he disappears into the crowd.

Cooper continues to glare at him until he's out of sight, before turning around to face Blaine and Kurt, who have stepped an appropriate distance from each other, shaking his head at Kurt, face still drawn and tight.

"Who was-" Blaine begins to ask, before Cooper yells over him, answering his question unknowingly.

"I cannot believe you dated that dickhead Kurt!" he all but growls, body still thrumming with residual anger.

"Can we not talk about it?" Kurt begs, feeling suddenly exhausted, stepping even further away from Blaine.

"Wait a minute," Blaine pipes up between them, "you _dated _him?" he asks, turning to Kurt, looking up at him, eyes so wide and shocked, confusion evident in the creases on his brow, hurt lingering in the bow of his lips.

"I justsaid can we not talk about it?" Kurt repeats, rolling his eyes at Blaine, feeling unjustly annoyed. He steps around him to begin walking home, ignoring the whispered conversation he hears between the brothers behind him as they walk.

They travel home in near silence, the day sinking completely into darkness around them, Kurt giving one word answers to almost every question asked of him. Cooper unlocks the front door and allows Kurt to enter first, saying his name as he passes, but Kurt ignores him.

Kurt toes off his boots, slings his thin jacket uncaringly over a chair and runs a hand through his hair. He's vaguely aware of Cooper and Blaine moving around him, the flicker of lights coming on, the TV in the background, conversation being had, but he ignores all of it in favour of two aspirins and a glass of water, gulped down quickly.

"I'm going bed," he finally decides, feeling his head thrum with tension.

"Kurt, it's barely ten o'clock," Cooper says, frowning at his friend's behaviour.

"I've got a headache," he says, and it's not a lie.

"Kurt can you just…" Cooper trails off, glances at Blaine who looks just as confused, before looking back to Kurt who looks plain defeated, "just talk to me?" Cooper finishes. "You always talk to me about what's bothering you…" Cooper says, and he's half pleading, wanting to understand why bumping into Julian has obviously gotten to Kurt so much.

"Nothing's bothering me," Kurt lies with a smile, "I'm just tired's all, I might ring dad," Kurt tells Cooper, who's still stood frozen, looking completely lost. "Goodnight," Kurt says, kissing Cooper lightly on the cheek as he passes him, "night Blaine," he adds, shooting a small wave to where Blaine's leant against the dining table, face drawn in concern.

"G'night," Blaine replies, voice small.

They both watch as Kurt slinks into his room, gently pushing the door shut behind himself, the silence left in his wake thick and deafening.

Blaine stares at his closed door for a moment, wanting nothing more than to follow after him and kiss him till he smiles, till his eyes shine like usual and he laughs into Blaine's neck.

But instead he just turns to where Cooper has fallen onto the couch, "is this because of that Julian guy?" Blaine asks, unable to work out what about the interaction could have bothered Kurt quite so much.

"Probably," Cooper says with a shrug.

"But why? What- what happened between them?" Blaine asks, falling down next to Cooper, waiting for an answer.

But instead his brother shoots a look over his shoulder at Kurt's bedroom door, heaves another sigh, before fixing Blaine with a sad look. "It isn't really my story to tell," he begins, "but basically Julian is the biggest fucking douchebag I've ever meet. Him and Kurt met when we first moved here. Kurt had never- well, I mean, he had his first boyfriend who he adored but, this was different… I mean, suddenly he's in New York and guys are paying him attention, a lot of guys. And Julian sort of, staked his claim on Kurt." Cooper's shaking his head the entire time he's speaking, throwing glances over his shoulder to Kurt's door.

Blaine listens raptly, trying to remember what he can of Kurt when he was 18.

"So, to cut a long story short, Julian was an absolute bastard to Kurt. He used him. He chewed him up and spat him out and then walked all over him. He accused Kurt of cheating on him with _me_," Cooper laughs at the idiocy of what he's just said, "and then cheated on him himself, a dozen or so times, and Kurt kept taking him back because he thought he loved him and- well," Cooper stops mid rant, takes a deep breath, "and all these other bullshit reasons," he rolls his eyes. "Anyway, eventually they broke up, thank god, and a couple months later Kurt started dating this other guy…" Cooper trails off.

"What happened?" Blaine asks, torn between rage and intrigue.

"Kurt turned up at his boyfriend's apartment one day to find Julian fucking him over the couch," Cooper sighs, part angry, part exhausted. And when his eyes find Blaine's he looks so sad and tired that Blaine can't help but wonder how many nights his brother's spent consoling Kurt.

"Shit," Blaine breaths, unable to stop his eyes darting to the closed bedroom door, feeling his heart tug towards the man hidden so far away.

"Yeah," Cooper sighs, "so that's why we hate Julian," he tries to smile, although the sadness is still evident in the curl of his lips, the ache which hasn't quite left his eyes.

Blaine doesn't say anything in response, just bites his inside cheek and glances at Kurt's closed bedroom door one final time, before settling in next to his brother, turning his attention to the TV. He can't focus though, his mind preoccupied with Kurt and Julian and how anyone could ever cheat on Kurt, could even be willing to risk losing him for a quick fuck.

Not long later Cooper pleas exhaustion and escapes to his room, but not after hugging Blaine close to his chest, muttering into his ear, "promise me you'll never be dumb enough to fall for a guy like Julian? I can't go through that again."

And Blaine tries to laugh, promises he wont, says nothing about who he's starting to think he's falling for, and then Cooper's gone.

Blaine stands in silence for a few minutes, mind racing. He doesn't know what to do. Whether to _do _anything at all, or to just get in bed and burrow into the now familiar blankets and wait till morning. But he can't. He can't bear the thought of Kurt alone in his room, upset over some guy who didn't deserve him in the first place.

So he makes a decision.

He pads into the kitchen, takes a pan from the cupboard as silently as possible and begins to heat some milk. He doesn't really know how long it takes, never having done it before, but as soon as bubbles begin to form around the edges he figures that's it. He grabs a mug from the rack, holds it steady as he pours the milk in, bottom lip trapped between his teeth in concentration. And if he spills a little and it burns his fingers, that's a small price to pay if it cheers Kurt up even just a little bit.

Eventually he creeps over to Kurt's bedroom door, knocks gently on the wood and listens for any sound from within. But there's silence.

Blaine contemplates not bothering, Kurt's probably ignoring him anyway. He thinks about dumping the milk down the sink and just crawling into bed, leaving Kurt alone when that is so very obviously what he wants. But his heart pulls towards Kurt, like the strings of a puppet, and he decides to just check before completely giving up.

He pushes the door open and steps inside. The room is shrouded in darkness, all the lights are off, blinds down, a thin slice of light creeping around the edge, illuminating the foot of Kurt's bed, the outline of his feet just visible beneath his thin summer duvet.

Blaine crosses the room, both hands on the mug for fear of spilling it. He feels the edge of the bed against his knees, and turns to gently sit down, reaching a hand out to feel for the bedside table when Kurt speaks behind him.

"I'm awake Blaine," he says, making Blaine jump, almost spilling the milk when it knocks against the edge of the table.

"I- oh, sorry, did I wake you?" he can't help but whisper, despite it being futile now he knows Kurt's awake.

"You didn't wake me. What're you doing?" Kurt asks, rolling onto his back, and as Blaine's eyes adjust to the darkness he can just make out Kurt's face, frowning slightly, confused.

"Oh I brought you some erm, warm milk," Blaine stammers, picking the mug back up and turning to hand it to Kurt.

Kurt's frown deepens as he pushes himself up, sitting with his back against the headboard. He leans around Blaine to flick on the lamp behind him, filling the room with warmth and light. Blaine smiles at Kurt, tries not to let his eyes flicker down to his bare chest and ignores the fading redness around his eyes, holding out the mug, hoping he hasn't overstepped some invisible line.

"Er, thanks," Kurt says, hesitantly taking the mug, staring at it for a moment before looking up at Blaine questioningly, "why warm milk?" he asks.

"I remember you sometimes had it before bed when you stayed over, back home I mean, before you and Coop left," Blaine explains, fiddling with the edges of Kurt's bedding, sending him a small smile before looking down, feeling suddenly unexplainably nervous.

"You remember that?" Kurt asks, a smile beginning to curl his lips as he leans down, pink lips a stark contrast against the white ceramic as he takes a sip, smile widening with the warmth which sinks slowly through his body, made warmer by Blaine's proud, bashful shrug.

"Yeah, I guess," Blaine says, pleased to have apparently done something right.

"Thanks," Kurt says, wrapping his hands more firmly around the mug.

They fall into silence, verging on awkward as Kurt sips his drink, eyes fluttering closed every so often as Blaine tries not to stare, fiddling with some loose thread on the hem of his top, wondering whether he should just get up and say goodnight. But he can't just leave when Kurt is so obviously troubled by something.

"Cooper told me about what happened with Julian," Blaine says quietly, without thinking, breaking the silence, feeling the atmosphere thicken with tension.

"He did? How nice of him," Kurt replies, anger simmering gently beneath his skin. But he holds it back, knows it's useless.

"No I- he didn't give me any details, he just said-" Blaine rushes to explain, feeling his cheeks flush in shame.

Kurt stops him with a hand on his thigh, warm even through the jeans he's still wearing, "it's fine, seriously, it doesn't matter," Kurt says, smiling a little sadly, averting his gaze back to his mug.

"I'm sorry if bumping into him earlier bothered you."

"Why are _you_ apologising? It's not your fault," Kurt genuinely laughs at that, small and strained but genuine none the less. "Come here," Kurt then says, motioning to the space beside him.

Blaine shuffles up, bends his legs onto the bed and scoots over to sit beside Kurt, his back against the head board, sending Kurt a bashful smile before turning away.

Kurt finishes off his milk in silence, slides the mug onto his bedside table and gravitates towards Blaine, warm and solid and close, shuffling over until their sides are flush and Kurt can feel the heat radiating from his skin. Kurt slumps down a little, tilts his head and places a single kiss to the knot of Blaine's shoulder, watching the boy smile beside him and tilting his head, resting it against Kurt's shoulder, his cheek warm on Kurt's bare skin.

"So…" Blaine breaths after a moment, not moving his head from where it rests against Kurt's bare, slumped shoulder, the skin a little cold beneath his face, but the rest of his body thrumming warmly where he's pressed up close to Kurt. "He's your type then?" he finally says, although it's rushed and whispered and barely audible.

"Huh?" Kurt mumbles beside him, scooting his legs closer to Blaine's, taking advantage of his warmth.

"Like, y'know," Blaine shrugs, turns his face to press his forehead against Kurt's shoulder, his breath fanning warm on Kurt's upper arm, "how he looks, he's the kind of guy you're into…?" he trails off, pressing his lips to Kurt's skin in the hope of being less downright obvious about what he's asking.

"What," Kurt laughs bitterly, tilts his head away slightly as Blaine trails his lips like stepping stones up the slope of his shoulder, skimming his neck, "tall, blonde and a cocky dickhead?" he asks, lifting a hand absently to card through the hair at the nape of Blaine's neck, thick and soft, holding him close, encouraging.

Blaine laughs into his skin, the sound warm, the vibrations almost against Kurt's pulse as he turns slightly, a steadying hand behind Kurt's back as he leans closer. "No-" he says, smile pressed against Kurt's neck, "not the dickhead bit," he stops kissing for a moment, waits, takes a breath and speaks, "but like, y'know, tall and built and blonde …" Blaine trails off, waits with his lips hovering over Kurt's goosebumped skin, his eyes trained on what he can see of Kurt's profile from the awkward angle. He watches Kurt's eyelashes flutter where they've fallen shut, the pink of his tongue as he licks his lips, feels anticipation slink down his spine with every stroke of Kurt's fingers in his hair.

But Kurt just shakes his head, "not really," he says, oblivious to Blaine's quickened heartbeat, the unsteady rhythm of his breathing against his shoulder.

"No?" Blaine breaths, holding still and waiting, daring to trace a few more kisses over Kurt's skin, shuffling onto his knees and turning to face Kurt properly, moving forward and sliding an arm low and loose around his body, tugging him close, smiling when Kurt leans willingly into the touch.

"Nahh," Kurt sighs, his eyes batting tiredly closed as he rests his head on Blaine's shoulder, tilted to welcome his lips. "I mean, take away his personality and yeah, he's generically attractive," Kurt shrugs, makes a small, noncommittal hum of pleasure when Blaine's lips swoop down over his collarbone. "But," he sighs, shuffles unconsciously closer, "I dunno, I much prefer smaller guys," he says before yawning, "dark hair, big eyes. Cute, adorable guys who don't even realise how gorgeous they are," he finishes, head turning, face pressing almost flush against Blaine's throat as he inhales deeply.

And Blaine feels his heart pick up even more, fingers splaying and tightening where he hasn't realised they're gripping Kurt's waist, dropping his eyes to try and see Kurt's face. He can't see his expression, but he can feel his breath warm and regular on his skin and his wonderful weight pressing against him. He shivers at the feel of Kurt's hand slipping, falling from his neck to the base of his spine, the delicate tickle on his skin as Kurt's eyelashes flutter when he blinks them open, tilts his head up, locks his night-sky navy eyes on Blaine's and just stares.

He takes Blaine's breath away. Slow and sleepy, gentle and almost smaller, vulnerable with his bare skin and his messy hair, lips pink and parted, breath warm, eyes both scared and shocked at the words which hang heavy and unmoving in the air, irrevocable.

Blaine feels a sharp, sudden ache in his chest, but he swallows it down and remembers to breath. "Yeah?" he asks almost silently between them, not entirely sure how to respond.

"Yeah," Kurt agrees, eyes darting lightening fast to Blaine's lips, back to his eyes, a small, nervous smile stretching over his face.

Blaine wants to lean forward and seal his lips over Kurt's, to coax sounds and sighs and stutters from his body, to lay him out and kiss him till he's flushed and breathless and then kiss him some more, enough to taste him on his tongue when he falls asleep, one room and miles apart.

But instead he refrains, bites his tongue and doesn't take the chance.

And a moment later it's too late, because Kurt's pulling away, distance between them now unconquerable as he sits up, rubs his eyes, drags a hand through his hair and smiles slowly. "You've made me sleepy," he says.

"Is that good?"

"Definitely, I couldn't sleep before," he admits, still smiling, eyes no longer red and skin not quite so cold anymore, infinitely more alive.

"That'll be the warm milk," Blaine says with a grin, stands up from Kurt's bed and takes the now empty cup in hand.

"Yeah," Kurt looks up and nods with a smile, eyes lingering on the cup in Blaine's hands, "the warm milk."


	16. Chapter 16

The next few days pass achingly slowly for both Blaine and Kurt.

Because now Cooper is everywhere.

He's there in the mornings, sat between them at breakfast, flicking water in Blaine's face when he leaves the bathroom, flitting around Kurt in search of more pancakes or toast or coffee or whatever it is Kurt's currently cooking. He sits between them on the coach, flops his feet on Kurt's lap and misses the sad little pout Blaine pulls, before he quickly drops his gaze.

He's there in the evenings, mouthful of food as he laughs and pushes at Blaine playfully, rolling his eyes at his brother, back to Kurt who bites his lip and looks away from Blaine's wide, easy smile when he laughs, the sound of his laughter making Kurt's heart thump fast.

He's everywhere, leaving them no time to kiss or touch or taste, no time to so much as smile secretly at one other, to share a glance and a smirk and to know exactly what the other's thinking, counting down the seconds till his disappearance.

But Cooper's not disappearing any time soon. He's taken it upon himself to go out everyday with Blaine, as he'd planned. They go to museums and shopping and out for lunch while Kurt stays holed up in the apartment, flicking through reality TV and working on sketches of clothes he's left unattended for weeks now.

Cooper invites Kurt, of course he does, every morning. But Kurt declines with a smile, says it's their time together, he doesn't want to intrude. And no matter how many times Cooper insists he isn't intruding, insists neither of them mind, they want him there, Kurt just laughs and shakes his head and kindly refuses, making up excuses as he goes along.

Because Kurt just can't be around Blaine right now.

Not after he shuffled on socked feet into Kurt's bedroom, nervous and sweet, lowering himself onto the bed, knocking a mug of warm milk against the table before presenting it, wide eyed and scared, to Kurt, the gentle brush of their warm fingers lighting Kurt up from the inside when he felt so cold.

Not after he'd decorated Kurt's skin in kisses, warm and wet and alive, bringing him back to life. Not after Kurt had felt his hands on his body, cautious and loving, tender and strong all at once as he'd tugged him closer, Kurt willingly falling into his shape, the slide of his lips over collarbones. Not after Kurt breathed him in and realised that was a smell he hoped he never forgot. Not after Blaine waited with bated breath, so carefully beside Kurt before asking, tentatively, what kind of guy Kurt likes.

And Kurt hadn't realised at the time, drowning in the warmth and welcome whisper of Blaine's voice over his skin, he didn't realise the significance of the question, and he certainly didn't realise the meaning behind his own words before they were spoken. Irretrievable and undeniable as he felt Blaine tense against him, could almost hear the leap of his heart in his chest.

It had terrified Kurt.

His own admittance, against the skin of Blaine's throat with the boy warm and breakable beside him, terrified him. The way Blaine leant the tiniest degree towards him, unsure and scared before Kurt pulled back, sat up and rubbed at his eyes, anything to not see the hurt expression painted over Blaine's face.

He'd said he couldn't sleep before, and it was true. Lying alone in bed with the moon light leaking over him, the memory of Julian's vile face leering at him, the way he'd touched Blaine.

But then Blaine had arrived and relaxed him, his aching bones and tense muscles, reduced him to a sleepy, drowsy mess with just a mug of warm milk and tender kisses. And Kurt knew, in that moment, that he could've sunk into Blaine's body heat and slept so peacefully, happily embraced in his arms, in the warmth of a boy five years too young for him and so very, painfully out of bounds.

So, it's for all those reasons, that Kurt declines every offer presented to him for four days straight, the reasons he avoids Blaine's smiles and tries his best to not be left alone with him.

But on the fourth day, early in the evening, Cooper slips out of the apartment, meeting Lex downstairs quickly as she drops something off for him on her way to work. It was a moment too late that he realised Cooper's disappearance left him completely alone on the couch, Blaine curled up in the opposite corner, nose in a book, shower fresh and smelling of citrus fruits, hair drying a little messily on one side from where he's snuggled into the couch cushions.

And as soon as the deadbolt on the door slides audibly closed, the atmosphere tenses noticeably.

They both look up at the same time, ice grey eyes meeting warm honey before they both smile, small and strained but shared nonetheless.

Blaine looks back down at his book, up at the closed front door, and then drops his book on the coffee table with a small thump before speaking, "it's been weird," he says, out of the blue but without restraint, half whispering as he looks up and tries to hold eye contact, hands twisting nervously in his lap, "these past few days without you. I've got so used to being around you."

Kurt feels the leap of his heart in his chest before he speaks, "same," he whispers, glances over his shoulder at the front door, before looking back at Blaine, watching the shadows of his eyelashes against his cheeks before patting the cushion beside him, inviting.

Blaine grins, wide and pleased and pushes himself from the arm rest he was leaning back against, crawling adorably on hands and knees around to Kurt, stopping momentarily when he reaches him, hesitant, before lifting a hand, carefully lacing it around Kurt's neck, carding it up into his thick hair, pulling Kurt willingly forward for their first kiss in days.

His boldness takes Kurt by surprise, but he's instantly kissing back, shuffling awkwardly for a better angle before tugging on Blaine's shirt, getting him closer, tighter to his body as he slides his tongue along the seam of his lips and gently eases his tongue into Blaine's mouth.

The boy whines against him, scrambles eagerly, unsteadily forward, moaning and pushing until Kurt's head is pressed back, neck splayed and pale, throat exposed. Blaine slides a hand over Kurt's thigh, up the inside leg of his pants and up towards his crotch as he kneels, swings a leg over Kurt's thigh, their kisses turning messy and unsynchronised until he settles half on Kurt's lap.

Blaine maps the lines of Kurt's body with a barely shaking finger, down his jaw, the tendons on his neck, collarbones protruding from an open shirt collar, down down down, over sternum and stomach to rest, hand splayed and eager over the growing bulge at his crotch.

Kurt bucks up when Blaine presses down, so much more willing than just a week ago as he leans back, smirks, bites teasingly at Kurt's lower lip before mouthing down his neck.

"Blaine," Kurt says, breathless, not only from kissing but the sudden, overwhelming rush of desire which crashes through his body. "Blaine," he says again, gently taking hold of Blaine's face to pull him away, "you need to stop," he says, holding Blaine's face close to his own, trying not to thrust up to where one of his hands has stopped on the button of Kurt's trousers.

"Why?" Blaine asks, genuinely confused, hurt evident in the crease of his brow.

"Because Coop'll be back any second and I really don't want us both to be hard when he does," Kurt explains in a rush, feeling panic set in as he tries to count back how many minutes Cooper's been.

"But I want you," Blaine breaths against Kurt's lips, eyes darting down to trace them, daring to press his hand down, to squeeze Kurt's steadily hardening cock before he flicks his eyes back up. They're eager and desperate and lost all at once, scared and wanting.

Kurt lets out a breath, glances at Blaine's own lips, slick and warm and so very, teasingly close. He's wearing a thin tshirt, a little loose around his chest, the hem's dangling forward a bit and Kurt can almost see the lines of his body beneath the shadowed fabric, skin he hasn't yet seen or kissed or felt hot and sweat slick beneath his palms, the tense, shuddering grip of the muscles before an orgasm.

"I want you, too," Kurt dares to admit to the space between their lips, letting it leak through his body, making his skin prickle and his head pound and his heart _ache. _"But we can't, not now, please," he pleads, cups Blaine's face, rests their foreheads together and begs with his eyes for understanding.

Blaine stares back for a moment, sadness written across his face, along with something else Kurt can't quite name. But he smiles, eventually, slowly, and it's like the break of the sun over the horizon on an icy morning, warm and familiar and essential.

"Okay," Blaine says, leans forward one last inch and slips his lips against Kurt's gentle and not enough and everything at once before pulling away, looking at Kurt for one final, lingering second, before scooting off of him.

He stays close to Kurt, though, closer than before, pressed almost against his side as he picks his book back up and curls his legs beneath him, resting his head carefully on Kurt's shoulder before he carries on where he left off.

Kurt knows he should push him away, kindly tell him they're still too close. But he can't, not right now, not when it's so obvious this is what they both want.

So instead he rests his hand, splayed and strong, on Blaine's knees, tugs until they're both twisted to rest on Kurt's thighs.

Blaine smiles secretly, hidden beneath the ducking of his head as he turns, slots into Kurt's side, weaves his arm beneath Kurt's, strokes the thin, milk-white skin of his inner wrist before taking his book in that hand, and just rests there, pretending to read while he revels in Kurt's pressure against him.

Cooper gets back a matter of minutes later, bouncing over the back of the couch with a bag full of takeaway. When his eyes fall on his brother and best friend he can't help but raise an eyebrow, catching Kurt's eye, who just shrugs, the motion jolting Blaine a little who glances up too.

It's only then that Cooper sees the title of the book he's reading, and whines.

"Again, Blaine?" he asks, eyeing the worn cover.

"Shut up," Blaine mumbles, glaring at his brother across the couch.

"Have you reached the bit yet where-" Cooper begins to ask enthusiastically.

"_Yes! _And I don't want to talk about it," Blaine grumbles, taking note of his page number before dropping _The Notebook _onto the coffee table.

"Well that'd explain your sad little face then," Cooper teases, picking up a cushion, "and I see I've been replaced for consolation cuddles," he says before whacking Blaine round the head with the cushion, laughing at the way his hair sticks up on one side from the blow.

"You- you weren't here," Blaine stammers slightly, sitting up suddenly as if he'd completely forgotten the situation. But Cooper's grinning wickedly, laughing before opening up the takeaway bag.

"Whatever Blainey, didn't know I was so easily replaced," he teases again before changing the subject. "Lex brought us Chinese so go and grab us some forks and that Squirt," he says teasingly, whacking Blaine again with the cushion when he doesn't move.

Blaine grumbles under his breath and extracts himself from Kurt, leaving Kurt feeling cold on one side, a shiver running down his spine.

"Did you make Lex come all the way over here, on her way to work, to bring us Chinese?" Kurt asks, incredulous.

"Uh huh," Cooper manages around a mouth full of prawn crackers, white crumbs scattering over his dark jeans as he munches. "She goes by here anyway, and there's a Chinese like, right next to her subway stop, it's no hardship," Cooper explains.

But Kurt still rolls his eyes, accepting his plate and cutlery from Blaine who slides past him, falling back to wear he was previously sitting, a few more inches separating them.

"Just 'cause you haven't got a hot piece of ass bringing you delicious food no need to get all uppity," Cooper laughs, unloading noodles onto his plate.

Kurt ignores him, rubs tiredly over his face before leaning over for the lemon chicken, spearing a few pieces onto his plate before passing the container to Blaine.

Their fingers brush, and it's warm and strangely familiar and makes heat flood Kurt, head to toe, as he looks up, meets Blaine's smile, before turning his attention back to his plate. He feels Blaine accidentally-on-purpose press their feet together briefly as he gets comfortable, and realises it's going to be a very long night with Blaine so dangerously close and yet so very, indescribably far away.

/

The next day Kurt has actual, legitimate plans with his friend Rachel in the day, so when he turns down Cooper's offer it's no longer with a lie, and the relief behind that realisation is calming to say the least. Cooper's reaction, however, is not.

"Kurt, come on, you haven't been out with us since we went cinema and that was days ago!" he complains grouchily.

"Coop, this is your time with your brother, you don't want me there," Kurt tries to laugh it off, shrugging on his coat, ignoring where he can hear Blaine padding around the kitchen, adorably mussed from just having woken up.

"Don't be like that Kurt," Cooper sighs, sounding genuinely tired, "I want you there, and I'm pretty sure Blaine doesn't mind, come on, come to dinner with us later," Cooper whines, tugging on Kurt's sleeve like a child, and he's so downright hopeful that Kurt just can't turn him down.

"Yes, fine, okay," Kurt pretends to groan and rolls his eyes good naturedly. Laughing into Cooper's shoulder when he's dragged into a hug, seeing Blaine pop his head round the corner, smiling the tiniest degree.

/

They end up in some cute, quaint little Italian restaurant not far from the apartment

They're seated at a square table near the edge of the room, Cooper automatically falling into the seat between them both. And if Kurt didn't know better he'd think Cooper was suspicious with how much he seems to like being in the middle, but he really knows it's just because he hates to be left out of conversations and this is his way of trying to make sure that doesn't happen. Cooper orders drinks, waving down a young waiter who from the looks of it is waiting on the other side of the restaurant. But the poor boy smiles and weaves between tables and takes their order, "a bottle of red wine, two glasses, and a soda for the minor here," Cooper shoots him a bright smile, and Kurt could swear he see's the guy flush before nodding and wandering off.

The drinks arrive not long later, presented by a pretty woman, with light, curly hair and Bambi eyes. She smiles at them all, placing their drinks down for them, pours the wine, her eyes lingering on Cooper for a moment, who all but preens under the attention.

"Someone's popular tonight," Kurt observes aloud, picking up his menu to avoid Cooper's proud little smirk.

But Cooper just straightens his back and winks at Kurt over his menu, not missing the quirk of a smile in the corner of Kurt's lips.

Time slips easily, effortlessly away from them as they order and eat, laughing and smiling and, occasionally, snorting, although Kurt would refuse to admit he ever snorts. They share stories between bites of food, Cooper spearing food from both Kurt and Blaine's plate to try, and confidently conceding he chose the best dish.

Cooper sloshes a couple inches of the crimson wine into Blaine's drained glass mid-meal, and urges him to try it, and then chokes on a mouthful of food when Blaine's face scrunches, eyes closed, nose wrinkled and lips drawn up, shaking his head to rid his mouth of the bitterly sweet taste.

"How can you drink that?" he asks, clacking his tongue against the roof of his mouth before eating forkfuls of his pasta dish to erase the taste, face still adorably scrunched up.

"It's delicious," Kurt he says through laughter, raising his eyebrows and smiling at Cooper still doubled up between them, wiping tears from under his eyes and cradling his stomach, taking long, head-clearing breaths.

Blaine glares at Cooper, glances at Kurt who's failing to hide his smile, before speaking, "it's really not _that_funny Coop," he sulks, unthinkingly licking over his almost-stained red lips and frowning at the taste lingering there.

He looks up just in time to see Kurt's eyes trail the path of his tongue, own wine glass half raised to his lips, fingers long and curled around the thin glass before his eyes dart up and lock with Blaine's. A flush spreads high and fast over his cheekbones as Kurt ducks his eyes swiftly, grip tightening on the wine glass as Blaine watches him bring it to his lips, watches the liquid slosh slightly, tipped back, neck accentuated, long and pale, red wine disappearing between his equally red lips, poured down his throat which bobs as he swallows.

And Blaine wants, in that moment, nothing more than to chase the flavour of bitter-sweet wine from Kurt's lips with his own.

"…made me remember, when you were little," Cooper's gasping out words between breaths beside them, and it pulls them both lightening fast from their reverie, "and dad was playing with the- the play dough with you, and he turned his back for like two minutes and you ate almost all of it, and that was the exact, same, face!" Cooper tips his head back and laughs, eyes watery as he blinks back tears and remembers.

"You ate play dough?" Kurt can't stop himself asking, turning to stare, wide eyed with laughter, at Blaine as he thunks his head against the table and groans.

"He ate money as well, and buttons," Cooper says, finishing off his food with a few final bites.

"Really?" Kurt asks, smiling at Cooper. They both thank the waitress as she clears away their plates, smiling far too long and sultrily at Cooper for it to be misconstrued as anything other than flirty. Cooper grins back, as he does to anyone who pays attention to him, and ignores Kurt's eye roll before continuing with the conversation.

"Uh huh," he nods, "mum says she used to find them in his diaper when she changed him," Cooper's grin is so wide and happy and _pleased _that Blaine wants nothing more than to punch him square on the nose.

Instead he just groans when he hears Kurt laugh, "oh my god," he mumbles into the table cloth, wishing it would lift from the table, wrap around him and swallow him whole because are they really discussing his toddler bowel movements?

"Mum reckons we could've had a family holiday every few months with the amount of spare change Squirt here-"

"Oh my god- shut up!" Blaine bolts upright, kicks Cooper hard in the shin and glares at him with all the strength he can gather.

"Fuck, Blaine, that hurt," Cooper smiles, still laughing as he leans down and rubs over his leg. "It's only Kurt, he doesn't care," Cooper nods to Kurt whose grinning impossibly wide, cheeks hurting from his smile as he tries to imagine little baby Blaine, crawling around on hands and knees, eating cents and dimes, mop of curly hair and podgy limbs and big, golden eyes.

"You're so embarrassing," Blaine mutters, burying his face in his hands to hide his painfully red cheeks.

"You think _this_ is embarrassing?" Cooper asks sceptically, tipping the last few drops of the wine into his glass, "wait until you take a boyfriend home and mum gets the photo albums out, that, my dear brother, is embarrassing," Cooper says with a grin, knocking back the last droplets of wine in his glass before grabbing the bottle and standing. He knocks it gently against Blaine's head and laughs when his brother swats at him, before wandering off, no doubt in search of more.

Blaine listens to the sound of Cooper's retreating footsteps and tries desperately to ignore the images which flash beneath his eyelids at Cooper's words. He sees himself taking Kurt home, sitting him down with his mum and a dozen photo albums, hiding his face at each new picture, pretending not to notice when Kurt slips one into his jean pocket, secretly loving every moment.

Eventually, though, the images leave his mind, trickling away like the bitter taste of wine on his lips as he cracks one eye open, peering between his fingers to Kurt across the table, who's just watching him, still smiling, a softness to his eyes which Blaine can't quite name.

"I wasn't as bad as he's making out," Blaine murmurs.

But Kurt's grin just widens as he reaches over the table to peel Blaine's hands from his face, dropping them to the table, his own resting only an inch away.

"It's cute," Kurt says, head tilting an in inch to one side.

"It's weird," Blaine corrects, unable to hold in his smile at the gentle sound of Kurt's laughter.

"Okay," Kurt admits, "it's a little weird, but mostly it's just cute," Kurt scrunches his nose as he says it and Blaine feels a blush creep back over his cheeks, not from embarrassment this time, but from the force of Kurt's eyes on him, so wide and open and honest and almost, dare he think it, _loving. _

Blaine stares for a second, admires the shadow of Kurt's eyelashes against his brow, gentle curve of his nose, angle of a jaw, bow of his smile, undeniably gorgeous from head to toe, and would it really be that awfully impossible for him and Kurt to-

He stops himself before his imagination runs away with him, because there's no way, no way in hell, tall, gorgeous, strong, sexy, compassionate, kind, beautiful Kurt could ever fall for a short little kid like Blaine. No way. The realisation of this hits him square in the chest and makes his stomach churn sickeningly. He sighs, snapping himself out of it as he catches Kurt's eye, because it's not _loving, _that look, it's just kindness, it's just Kurt being Kurt and nothing more than that.

He drops his eyes to the table, to calm his racing heart, and instead sees where Kurt's hands still lie, fingers curls slightly against the table cloth, so close to Blaine's own. He reaches out tentatively, fingers touching Kurt's just barely, warm and soft and forbidden as he unthinkingly pushes closer. His fingers slide under Kurt's hands, tickle at his palms and onwards, fingers over the thin skin of his wrist, palm to palm until he feels against his fingertips the racing hum of Kurt's pulse.

He looks up, just as Kurt does, catches his eye and sees a flicker around the edges, something he can't name, he opens his mouth to ask but then-

"Here boys, let me clear these away for you,"

They both jolt back, arms close to their bodies, hands darting under the table as their heads snap round to both stare up at the waitress currently clearing away the last of their side plates, humming under her breath. She's probably the oldest of the staff they've seen tonight, dressed in her own clothes instead of uniform, maybe she's a manager of some sort. She smiles at them both pleasantly, and lets out a little laugh at their jumpiness and stunned faces before speaking again.

"Oh don't let me stop you," she laughs again, "ain't no one in here going to bat an eye at two boys in love," she winks at Kurt who feels his breath catch, "and if they did I'd personally kick 'em out the door," she finishes, stacking the final plates before waltzing off.

Kurt and Blaine sit, frozen, in their seats as she retreats before slowly, cautiously, turning to face each other. Blaine feels his cheeks flame for what must be the hundredth time that night, while Kurt feels all the colour drain from his. Then they both blink nervously, trying to wrap their heads around what's just happened and look down at their hands knotted in their laps.

"She-"

"I-"

They both speak at the same time, eyes darting lightening fast from the table up to the others eyes, throats dry and mouths gaping still as they just stare and breathe and try, desperately, to puzzle together the person opposite them. Blaine drops his eyes first, stares at the table where their hands had not so long ago been laced together. He swallows, opens his mouth to speak, closes it again. Across from him, instead of staring at the table, Kurt stares at Blaine, at his gelled down hair, his small ears, the turn and shape of his lips which he can only just see and the noticeable inward slump of his shoulders. Scared.

Kurt takes a deep breath, tries to shake out the tension in his shoulders without actually moving, and goes to speak, when suddenly beside them appears Cooper.

"Come on guys," he says in a hurry.

"I thought you were getting more wine? And you wanted the-" Kurt begins, confused, voice rough from how dry his throat is.

"They haven't got it- here you got, let me," he says as Kurt stands, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair and holding it out for him to put on.

Kurt watches him apprehensively before standing, slipping his arms into his thin jacket, shrugging it onto his shoulders, trying not to look at Blaine and instead glancing over his shoulder to Cooper, who is glancing repeatedly over his own shoulder.

"How about the bill?" Blaine pipes up in front of them both.

"All paid," Cooper grins too wide, grabs Kurt by the lapels of his jacket and spins him forcibly to face him, stroking his hands down the collar of Kurt's jacket, still shooting looks over to the bar, where Kurt notices for the first time two young female waitresses staring with shocked expressions.

"What've you-" Kurt begins to ask, exasperated, turning back to glare at Cooper because he's obviously done _something, _but then there are lips on his own, warm and wet and horribly unfamiliar. There are hands, strong, broad, tight, on the back of his head, side of his neck, holding him.

Kurt splutters slightly, eyes closing on instinct as he presses his hands against Cooper's chest and tries, in vain, to push him off. Cooper opens his mouth, presses closer, his body along the length of Kurt's who steps back, knocks the table and pushes harder, squirms, back bowing awkwardly as he tries to escape, feeling Cooper's tongue press insistent against the seam of lips and that's the final straw.

He parts his lips the tiniest degree, sucks Cooper's bottom lip into his mouth and bites down, _hard, _sinking his teeth into the tender flesh and giving Cooper a final rough shove to get him off.

"-the fuck Kurt!?" Cooper whispers, still too close as he sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, brings his hand up to touch the tender flesh, and Kurt can't help but smile when he sees the red shine of blood pool over Cooper's lips.

"What the fuck yourself," Kurt responds, shoving at Cooper again before wiping the back of his hand over his lips, horribly wet, saliva tracks on his skin as he scowls at his hand. He turns back to the table, grabs Blaine's glass, still with an inch of wine at the bottom and eagerly knocks it back, he swills it around his mouth a few times, mostly for dramatic effect because _thank god _Cooper didn't get quite that far but damn, was he trying.

"Just go," Cooper growls, shoots a look back over at the bar before grabbing hold of Kurt's shoulder, angling him to the door.

"Get off of me," Kurt sneers over his shoulder, shrugging Cooper's hands off him as he stalks from the restaurant.

They get outside, the cool air hitting Kurt like a brick wall and with it comes relief, he can't help but glance at Blaine, who looks beyond confused, glancing between Kurt and Cooper, the latter of which is staring at Kurt too, an apology on his lips.

Kurt stares at Cooper for a second, stares at his big eyes and his messy hair and his still bleeding lip and sighs, long and loud before turning, beginning to walk away. He hears the brothers shuffle to keep up, hears Blaine whispering something before Cooper finally speaks.

"Look Kurt, I-"

"What the fuck _was_ that?" Kurt shouts over him, spins on his heel to glare icily at Cooper, arms crossed angrily over his chest, face drawn tight and heart pounding, stomach tight with rage.

"I just, those girls, and I thought…" Cooper trails off, glances at Blaine as if he could help. But Blaine just looks faintly terrified.

"You thought what? Turning them down wasn't enough so you had to make a god damn show of it? God, Cooper, not everything is a fucking-"

"No! No it wasn't that Kurt, it wasn't," Cooper begs, takes a step forward and for the first time look genuinely, truly sorry. "It was…" he sighs, glances again at Blaine who has wrapped his arms around himself, obviously trying to look as small as possible. "I went over there to talk to that girl who served us and-" Kurt rolls his eyes and turns to walk away, before Cooper grabs his arm and tugs gently, asking him to turn as he continues to speak, " please just hear me out… I- I overheard them girls, at the bar, and- and they were being really fucking horrible about…" Cooper sighs, eyes shooting to Blaine again, stood waiting.

"About what, Coop?" Kurt asks, voice hard and unforgiving.

"About you guys," Cooper finally admits, ducking his head.

"Me and Blaine?" Kurt then asks after a moment, voice gentler.

"Yeah and just- just gay people in general. I overheard them, while I was talking to the woman who served us, and they were talking about, y'know the kid who first served us? He was about Blaine's age?" Kurt nods, eyes falling to Blaine momentarily. "And I just- god, I just really fucking hate it. I know I've not- not experienced the bullying and the shit that you guys have but, I mean, I was with you all through high school Kurt," his brow wrinkles with the memories, "I know what those bastards did to you and I tried to help when I could and then-" he turns to his little brother, "and then you came out and- and it was happening all over again and there's never anything I can actually _do _to stop either of you getting hurt and-"

"Oh god," Kurt sighs through a strangled laugh and steps forwards, wraps his arms around Cooper and allows the anger to seep from his body, until all be feels is profoundly tired. "How on earth was kissing me going to fix anything though?" Kurt asks, rolling his eyes at Blaine who is smiling sadly a few feet away.

"I dunno, I just thought it'd be a bit of a slap in the face for them. I didn't really think it through…" he laughs into Kurt's neck, "and you didn't seem to mind last time at-"

"There is a big difference," Kurt shouts over him, cheeks flaming as he steps back, "between drunk, high school party, truth or dare kisses and you attacking me in a busy restaurant," Kurt tells him, still smiling, before turning and walking away.

"Yeah, you were a lot more willing back then," Cooper smiles, catching up with him, slipping an arm around Kurt's waist and leaning down, pressing a kiss to his cheek and laughing loudly when he squirms away.

"Wait- you two…?" Blaine speaks beside Cooper, walking fast to catch up before turning, walking backwards to stare at them both, expression confused as he points a finger between them, seemingly unable to finish his sentence.

"Yep," Cooper announces almost proudly, lips popping on the P. "Best he's ever had," he announces, laughing at Kurt's disdainful eye roll.

"You weren't the _worst,_" Kurt emphasises, laughing when Cooper pretend-pouts. "I've had better," Kurt admits.

"Oh yeah?" Cooper raises a mock eyebrow.

"Yeah," Kurt retaliates, smiles coyly at Cooper, who just drops his head and laughs. Kurt then glances up, meets Blaine's eyes and smiles, "much better," he adds, revelling in Blaine's small, delightfully shocked expression, before burying his hands in his pockets and looking away, pretending not to notice when Blaine turns to face forward and slips, effortlessly, in between Kurt and Cooper, close enough to Kurt for their shoulder to knock gently.

* * *

**A/N: I had an ending in mind for their little dinner date, and this is not it. This is not what I had planned at all so I'm sorry if that took an unexpected turn, but I was probably as surprised as you. Anyway, as always, thanks for reading and I hope you're still enjoying :D**


	17. Chapter 17

That night they return to the apartment surprisingly late, and Kurt leaves the brothers sprawled out on Blaine's bed, an old comedy playing and a tub of ice cream being passed between them.

He disappears into his own room, strips off his clothes and falls, exhausted, into bed. He falls asleep quickly, almost effortlessly, but with the memory of Blaine's bright, easy, proud smile from the end of the night filling his mind, the touch and spark of his fingers on Kurt's hand, too hot and too close in a crowded restaurant, coupled with fading memories of the boy's body against his own, small and warm and fitting so snugly, perfectly against him. He sleeps restlessly, lost in dreams of vivid eyes and hidden smiles, stolen, lingering coffee-kisses and a boy whose heart beats so beautifully full of life. When he wakes he's still tired, embarrassingly half hard in his boxer-briefs as imaginary hands on his body skim away, leaving him goosebumped, cold and alone and so very confused.

He ambles out of bed on heavy feet and disappears groggily into the bathroom, using all his willpower to not be drawn to the sound of Blaine's breathing only feet away. He resists the urge to crawl under the blankets and over his sweltering body, to wrap his limbs around the boy and breath him in and just rest, peacefully, with his lips to Blaine's throat until he wakes, and then to kiss him slowly, groggily to life and to run his hands over ever soft, supple line of his sleep-hot body. He resists, but it takes everything he's got.

Kurt showers quickly, systematically, not allowing his hands to linger anywhere longer than wholly necessary, focussing on the soothing pounding of water against skin and tiles and glass, allowing his muscles to relax in the steam.

He towels off quickly, wrapping it tight around his hips before flicking his hair out of his face, feeling fresh and clean, body pleasantly relaxed from the heat instead of highly strung with desire.

Pulling the door open as silently as possible Kurt creeps out, still achingly aware of Blaine being so close, not wanting to wake him. But as soon as he steps into the open living room the cool air washes over him and he feels eyes on him, turning slowly he sees, out of the corner of his eye, Blaine, stood stock still halfway between kitchen and sofa.

Blaine's staring at him, seemingly stopped mid step, body angled away but head turned and locked on Kurt. He's still in his pyjamas, hair stuck up on one side, matted and tangled and Kurt wants to drag his fingers through it, scratch along his scalp until Blaine melts beneath his touch.

"Hi," Blaine says, voice dry, dragging his bottom lip between his teeth and turning, eyes falling fast over Kurt's body, over miles of touchable, soft, sinuous skin. The stretched tight lines of his muscles, supple and twistingly lithe and the gradual, broad expanse of his bare, damp shoulders. Concave dips behind his collarbones, between muscle and bone, where Blaine's sure his chin would fit, snug, were he to wrap his arms around Kurt from behind.

"Hey," Kurt replies, hand automatically coming to rest over the bunched fabric of his towel. Not that Blaine hasn't already seen him naked, but stood in the growing brightness of morning, bare and goosebumped, he feels so very vulnerable, breakable in that moment as he feels rivulets of water drip down the back of his neck, skirting rivers over his spine.

Blaine doesn't reply, just continues to stare at Kurt, almost naked and wet and so obviously tense as Blaine aches to press his mouth to his chest, nipples, ribs, to slide his finger beneath the damp towel, to tug until the fabric falls away and he can press Kurt back, trace water tracks with his tongue and teeth, taste Kurt in his mouth for hours. And wow, where did that come from? Only last week he'd been frightened to touch Kurt, let along push his naked body up against the wall and ravish him.

"Blaine, my eyes are up here," Kurt manages through a staccato burst of laughter.

Blaine flicks his eyes up, flushes as he smiles and ducks his face to the floor. He shakes his head, tries to clear it, before looking up again. "Sorry," he says, swallows the lump in his throat, dampens his lips, takes a hesitant step forwards, and another when Kurt doesn't react. "You look…" he trails off as his eyes trail down again, whatever he was doing before forgotten as he admires skin and bones and muscles and beating, thumping, living heart and lungs and rushing blood, so close and hot that Blaine can almost hear it. "You look unreal," he finally breaths, steps forward again, so close now, licks his lips and wishes it was the ridge of Kurt's hips instead, protrudingly prominent against his towel.

"I- thanks," Kurt gulps through his smile, "I think," he adds in a whisper, Blaine now close enough to hear no matter how gently he speaks.

"Oh it's definitely a compliment," Blaine says simply, reaching his hands out to thumb over Kurt's hip bones. Kurt's breath stutters against his lips at the touch, making confidence swell within him, smirking as he tilts his head up, almost touching.

"Cooper?" Kurt asks silently between them, eyes flicking down to Blaine's lips, over and over again, tracing the bow and curve of them, his entire body flooding with an ache to just touch and trace and take, to want and allow himself to want and to give in.

"Sleeping," is all Blaine says before he's rocking forward on his toes, leaning teasingly, tantalisingly close, eyes hued like honey and blown black as he stares at Kurt. He skims his hands too gently up Kurt's sides, tickling the skin and feeling the shiver which rocks through Kurt's body, whose hands reach up, fingers curl over the almost bare muscles of Blaine's shoulders as he presses his face closer to Blaine's and all but whimpers into his mouth, eyelashes fluttering pleadingly, because this is everything he wants.

"I can't stop thinking about you," Blaine then admits, and he could kick himself for how clichéd it is. But it's true. "After last night," he says, words stumbling, "I just- you're always so close and I can't- and I-" he can't get his words out, can taste Kurt's breath and feel his warmth and see the indecipherable pools of his eyes and-

And Blaine thinks, in that split second of clarity before he presses his lips against Kurt's, about how strangely their roles seem to have switched, in that Blaine now has control as he presses Kurt back, feels him whine, the rabbit-quick thump of his heart beneath his bare, damp skin and the _want, _which leaks sweet like sugar into Blaine's mouth when they finally kiss.

And god, does Kurt _want. _

Blaine can feel it instantly; the tightening of his grip on Blaine's shoulders, the arch of his back as he leans down, the way he presses closer, closer, closer, as close as possible until Blaine is pressed up against the entire, hard length of Kurt's almost naked body. Blaine can feel dampness seeping through his clothes, Kurt's cock hardening against where he himself is already straining and no doubt leaking in his pyjama pants, having started growing hard as soon as Kurt left the bathroom.

But Kurt feels it too, feels the moment he begins to lose control and give in, feels a tugging ache in his chest and fights it down, because he's not giving in, not when Blaine is so obviously, equally desperate against him, not when his never-been-touched boy is so willing to be touched.

So instead he pulls away, opens his eyes, slow and sultry and watches Blaine blink a few times. Kurt then leans back, makes Blaine work for it, makes him tip toe, kissing over Kurt's neck, his hands running, roaming, exploring Kurt's rapidly over heating skin, the only thing that seems to be holding him together right now.

Kurt finally leans forward again, kisses him, once, twice, three times, hard and swift and darting, feels Blaine's finger nails dig into his waist, frustrated as he whines, bucks forward and finally Kurt kisses him the fourth time, roughly. He slides his tongue instantly alongside Blaine's, strokes inside his mouth, tips his head back, arcs down, deepens the kiss until Blaine is whimpering and begging with his body beneath and against and wrapped like vines around Kurt's.

And then he slides his hands, long fingered, broad palmed, into Blaine's hair, cradles his face and suckles his bottom lip between his teeth. Blaine moans with the sweet painfulness of it when in the distance, beneath the _thump-thump-thump _of their hearts and the wet, pulling drag of their lips there is a faint, gentle creak of old floorboards.

"Shit," they hear Cooper curse a room away, too close as they both pull back, silent gasps from kissed red lips, wet and swollen.

There's a bang from the other room and it gives them a few precious seconds to avert their gazes and step back more, to stop their hands shaking and to, of course, try desperately to rearrange their dicks from being so obviously hard.

And then Cooper's wandering out of his room, head bowed forward, hand stroking over the back of his skull tentatively as he approaches them. He must then see their feet because he looks up, slowly.

"Hi guys," he says, face tight with pain, "Kurt will you have a look at the back of my head? I whacked it on the corner of my bedside table when I woke up," he screws his eyes shut, fingers prodding over the back of his head before turning his back to Kurt, smiling faintly down at Blaine whose entire body is still thrumming with adrenaline, hands shaking with the feel of Kurt's bare skin beneath them.

Kurt, with equally shuddery hands, gently cards his fingers through the hairs at the back of Cooper's head, trying not to focus on how only seconds ago he'd been doing the same to Blaine. He reveals, nestled at very base of Cooper's skull, the curve where it joins neck beneath hair, a faint, tender gash, blood already beginning to dry in his hair.

"Just a- a small cut," Kurt reassures him, smoothes the hairs gently back down and, on instinct, rubs his hand soothingly down Cooper's back, over his shoulders to ease his tension.

"I'm such a clumsy prick sometimes," Cooper mumbles, touches his head again and winces, before walking through Kurt and Blaine, into the kitchen. "What're you two doing anyway? You're up early Blaine," Cooper yawns as he turns to the fridge, pulling out a carton of juice, shooting his brother a comically concerned look.

And Kurt, who likes to think of himself as quite a mature person, can't help but duck his head, hiding his smile and fighting back his snigger because yes, Blaine is definitely _up _early, he thinks, eyes darting to stare at the still faintly visible bulge of Blaine's cock, still noticeably hard, although lessening now Cooper's arrived.

Blaine shoots him a glare, dagger sharp and jaw clenched because he just _knows_ what Kurt's laughing about, and it's certainly not funny.

"Come and get breakfast and let Kurt get dressed," Cooper calls, popping bread into the toaster and flicking the coffee machine on, filling it with fresh beans and listening as the grinder sets to work, hand still rubbing the base of his skull.

But Blaine doesn't move. Just stays frozen solid, hips angled slightly away from Cooper, out of his vision. He flicks his eyes up to Kurt, begs for help, but what can Kurt do?

Because Kurt knows his asking for help, for a way out, for just one more minute. But Kurt's feeling particularly cruel today, so instead he just smirks once, swift and pleased before slinking past Blaine, too-close and too-nearly-naked before he disappears into his bedroom.

Blaine growls under his breath, feels embarrassment surge blood hot through his face as he closes his eyes, wills his body to calm down quicker, quicker, quicker. And it's working, it's definitely working, but all too soon Cooper's speaking again.

"You okay Blaine?" he asks as he pulls the toast from the toaster, quickly spreading butter as Blaine turns a little more to face him.

"Yeah, why? Why wouldn't I be?" Blaine replies quickly.

"Your face is like, incredibly red," Cooper says through a mouth full of toast, crumbs falling onto the dark pyjama top he's wearing, and Blaine could swear he hears Kurt giggle from his bedroom.

/

By the time Kurt leaves his bedroom, dressed and hair-dried, it's to find the apartment empty but for Cooper, stood humming in the kitchen, favourite yellow apron loose around his neck as he rolls god knows what onto the counter.

"I'm having de ja vu," Kurt jokes, sliding onto a kitchen stool to watch the show.

Cooper shoots a glare over his shoulder, before knocking the humming up a few notches, obviously trying to drown Kurt out.

"Where's Blaine?" Kurt can't help but ask, keeping his voice flat and normal and not at all intrigued.

"Shop, he wanted bagels for breakfast, we'd ran out of some stuff…" Cooper trails off with a shrug, turning and leaning back against the counter to look at Kurt, slapping his hands together to rid them of excess flour. Kurt watches as it catches in the light and dances, lighter than air, for a few moments, before he's dragged from his mind by Cooper's voice. "… for last night, I-"

"Huh?" Kurt asks, having completely missed the start of the conversation.

"I said I want to apologise properly for last night…" Cooper smiles shyly, "I know it wasn't my most intelligent moment and well, just," he shrugs awkwardly, so much like his little brother that Kurt's stomach drops at the resemblance, "I'm just sorry, we should've just left. Like you said… I like to make a show and it didn't exactly-"

"It's fine Coop," Kurt cuts him off with a smile, a fond shake of his head, Cooper kissing him already forgotten, unimportant in the grand scheme of what is Kurt's life at the minute. "Honestly," he tacks on at the end, "it was worth it just to see Blaine's face," Kurt says, remembering the younger boy's startled, confused expression.

Cooper laughs back, grins wide and carefree like normal, and Kurt knows the issue's forgotten, among a million other silly moments in their friendship. When Cooper's eyes find Kurt's he's still smiling, but it's smaller, tighter around the edges. Cooper drops the gaze first, stares at his feet for a few seconds, before finally looking back up and speaking, through his smile, although with a hardness to his voice which Kurt doesn't hear very often.

"D'you think he's okay?" he says, seriously.

"Blaine?" Kurt asks, just to make sure.

"Yeah."

"He's only gone to get bagels, I'm sure-"

Cooper's bark of laughter cuts Kurt's words in half, and he's shaking his head, flour in his hair.

"No, you idiot, I meant like, in life…" he trails off, still smiling, but that serious edge is back, and Kurt feels his insides knot and churn and grip tight, feels dread creep like a creature through his veins before he replies.

"I- yes, of course he's okay… why wouldn't he be?" Kurt asks, wonders whether he's been too preoccupied with Blaine's body and bashful smile and beautiful eyes to notice something serious.

"I just meant like, in himself…" Cooper shrugs and waits.

"I- I don't understand," Kurt says, wondering where these questions have come from and hoping they're not a result of his and Blaine's unusual situation.

"I just mean… with all the bullying and harassment and that dance, moving schools, having to make all new friends, struggling to fit in somewhere, just- just being gay in Ohio and- well- you must know some of what he's going through… I just wondered whether he seemed, y'know, okay… to you? Happy?"

Kurt stares. And stares. And thinks.

Does Blaine seem okay to him? Does he seem happy?

All Kurt sees when he thinks over the questions is big smiles and bright eyes with crinkles around the edges, loud, stomach aching laughs and giggles, snorts and chuckles and tears streaming down Blaine's face, hands gripped around his stomach as if holding himself together. Bitten lips and downcast smiles, long, fluttering eyelashes and sighs so long and gentle that Kurt's bones shook with them. Heat of his hands, body, skin, tight and tingly and taut, stretched with a groan and held tense, soaring and breaking on the whispered, worshipped taste of Kurt's name on his lips and the achingly pleasant grasp of an orgasm. Sleep-slow, languid, savouring kisses, pink cheeks and messy hair and drumming, thumping heart and Kurt's hand, splayed, holding, caring, on his neck, in his hair, as Blaine sinks and falls blissfully closer and rests, snugly, perfectly, serenely against Kurt's body.

"Yeah he seems- seems okay to me," Kurt eventually says, swallows the lump in his throat and feels the words catch as he literally _aches _with the need to grasp Blaine close to his chest, tuck him into his body and keep him safe. Because Kurt's forgot, for these past two weeks, that Blaine has been through everything, and more, that Kurt has. And if that isn't enough to make him want to cry for the boy, who has struggled so much at so young, he doesn't know what is.

"Does he ever talk about the move and Dalton with you? Or anything at all? I know you guys spent a lot of time together last week," Cooper wonders aloud, and he's waiting, so trustingly, for Kurt's answers.

"I- yeah, I guess, a bit," Kurt says, and it's not a lie, Blaine has mentioned school and friends occasionally, in between their flirting and kissing and touching and okay, maybe Kurt should have asked some more about how he is, having experienced a similar situation at Blaine's age. "He sometimes talks about Dalton, glee club and his classes and stuff, he mentions The Warblers, I think they've been good for him. He doesn't- doesn't mention his old school, or the dance, or any of the bullying," Kurt admits, watches Cooper nod.

"But he seems happy?"

"Yeah, I guess," Kurt says, wonders whether Blaine is always as happy as Kurt has seen him while in New York. "Do you not talk to him about this stuff yourself?" he can't help but ask.

"I try," Cooper admits, almost sounding ashamed. "But I think he's embarrassed, he doesn't want to talk to his big brother about being pushed around at school, or tell me about the guys at the mall who scream 'fag' at him or whether he still has nightmares, he just…" Cooper sighs, long and loud and rubs a hand over his head. "I think he tries too hard sometimes to be happy and strong, for me, and mum and dad, and everyone at school but none of us know, really, deep down, what he's going through. But you must, to some degree; you can relate more than any of us, and well, I just hope if he doesn't want to come to me or our parents or- or whoever, that maybe he'll come to you, or you'll at least, just, _see _or realise and relate and maybe he won't feel so alone if he has someone else who's experienced similar things to what he has. I mean, our families have always been pretty close, he _knows _you."

Kurt stares, again, and it's all he can do because how could he possibly have been so blind?

"I talk to him about boys," Cooper continues, "who he thinks are cute and guys in his classes and things like that, I ask about school and The Warblers and I try to make it clear that I'm here for him, for whatever he wants to talk about. But all I can think about is at McKinley when Karofsky was pushing you around and you wouldn't tell your dad and I- I hated you doing that to yourself and I couldn't stand it if Blaine was doing the same. I just- I just want him to be happy and loved and-"

Cooper's words are cut short as the front door swings open and Blaine waddles in, weight uneven, laden down on one side with shopping bags.

He kicks the front door shut, moves half the bags to his other hand and finally looks up, his eyes meet Cooper's, and then Kurt's, and he grins, wide and easy and real. His eyes are huge and golden in the sunlight, his hair ruffled and messy, ungelled and tangled from the wind and his clothes are loose, twisted a little around his small frame from the weight in his arms and he speaks, voice breathy and relaxed, "hey guys," as he continues to beams and drops the bags in the kitchen.

And Kurt stares, because that's apparently all he's capable of doing this morning, at Blaine, who looks so indescribably, unfathomably beautiful, rumpled and adorable in the early morning sun, skin tanned and shining and body small, but strong and durable and Kurt feels his heart lurch, his breath catch and his body freeze because fuck, this 16 year old boy should not be making him feel like this. Should not be making his heart thump and ache and hurt all at once, should not make him want and need and care and should not make emotions bubble so dangerously close to the surface.

Because he's a _boy._He's young and naïve and foolish, and Kurt remembers being 16. Remembers being infatuated with a person, with the idea of a person and with the idea of love and he remembers, only too clearly, falling for someone he could never, ever hope to have.

And he refuses to go through that again, at 21, for a boy who is far too young, like Kurt had been, to have any idea what he wants.

"What's going on?" Blaine asks, oblivious to what he's just walked in on.

"Nothing," Cooper says with a smile, turning back to his baking, "I'm just making cookies for Lex," he shoots Blaine a wide, overconfident smile.

"What's the occasion?" Blaine asks, sending Kurt a hidden, secret smile, setting off a storm of butterflies in Kurt's stomach which he tries, and fails, to control.

"There's no occasion," Cooper grins and hip bumps Blaine when he tries to slide his finger through the dough. "Just following mum's advice," he says, almost proud.

"What advice?"

"She always says when you love someone you should bake them cookies at least twice a year," Cooper recites happily, using the heart shaped cookie slicer and ignoring Blaine when he picks up the mixing bowl and swipes his finger around the edge.

Blaine rolls his eyes at Kurt before he offers him the mixing bowl with raised, questioning eyebrows. But Kurt just smiles weakly in response, declines, and when Blaine pretends to pout, Kurt wishes he didn't want to lean over the counter and kiss away his frown lines, wishes he didn't want to suck his plump lower lip into his mouth, wishes he didn't want to taste the sweet tang of cookie dough on his tongue.

Mostly, though, Kurt wishes he knew what his emotions were doing right now.

* * *

**A/N: So I know a few people have been saying about smut, and I know there hasn't been an awful lot as of late but, realistically, they haven't had a chance, and I think as you can see in this chapter, whatever this is between them is getting less and less about sex and more about something else entirely. So, just, stick with me, I promise smut is coming (d'you see what I did there?) And as always thank you for reading and I hope you're still enjoying :)**


	18. Chapter 18

Kurt wakes to Cooper looming over him, shaking his shoulder and whisper-shouting into his quickly brightening bedroom. Kurt mumbles something, bats at him, rolls away and clings to his pillow, buries his face in it and pretends it's all a bad dream.

"Kurt, wake up, fucks sake, _Kurt!_" Cooper shakes him hard then, hand firm on his shoulder as the mattress creaks beneath their joint weight.

"_What?_" Kurt gives in, rolls over, irritated, pushes Cooper back from where he's kneeling half over his body, kicks at him for good measure, before slumping back, closing his eyes and groaning.

"Finally, Jesus, you're like a corpse when you sleep," Cooper crawls unnecessarily over his legs and stands up, straightening his shirt over his chest. "How does this look?" he asks, fiddling with the cuffs before spinning on the spot, raising his arms for Kurt to see.

"What're you doing?" Kurt mumbles into his hand through a yawn, watching confused as Cooper parades in front of him.

"I need advise, what do you think about this shirt?" Cooper twirls again, stumbling over his own feet slightly.

"What's the event?" Kurt asks, leaning up on his elbows to get a better view.

There's a pause, just a second where Cooper looks faintly terrified, before he speaks, "Lex's parents want to meet me."

"Oh- right, wow," Kurt breaths and sits up a bit straighter at the importance of the matter. It's not very often Cooper gets to the Meet the Parents stage of a relationship.

"Yeah, I know right?" Cooper laughs nervously before turning again, showing the back to Kurt while twisting his spine awkwardly to maintain eye contact. "So, what d'you think?"

Kurt analyses it for a moment, "where are you meeting them?"

"We're going for dinner, some fancy French place her dad loves," Cooper shrugs, lost.

"'Fancy'?" Kurt repeats, earning a quick nod, "no…" is all he says then, shaking his head and sitting up properly against the headboard, trying not to laugh at the way Cooper's entire face falls.

"But I thought the colour-"

"You thought wrong," Kurt frowns, "have you got anything less… inner-city-office-worker?"

Cooper gawps at him, jaw slack with shock before he stutters over an answer. "I- I dunno… I don't even know what that looks like. I've got that blue- no?," he arcs an eyebrow when Kurt shakes his head. "Oh, how about the really light pi- still no? Okay I give up, I don't know…" he slumps onto Kurt's bed, covers his face in his hands and groans.

Kurt can't help but laugh at him, leaning forward to tug a hand from his face. "It's fine, we'll go shopping, we'll find you something," he promises.

"I'm meeting Lex for breakfast in… shit, ten minutes," he stumbles upright, stares at Kurt, panicked, caught between running to change and waiting for him to speak.

"Just text me when you've finished and I'll come and meet you," Kurt offers, smiling at the relief which washes over Cooper's face.

"Thank you, I love you," he says, grabs Kurt by his bed-messed hair and plants a kiss on his head before literally running from the room, swiftly unbuttoning his shirt as he goes.

Kurt slumps sideways on his bed, lying awkwardly, body at a right angle as he allows his eyes to drift closed, listening faintly to Cooper rushing around before he hears a hurried, "see you later," followed by the slam of the door.

Kurt winces as the sound resonates through the apartment.

He glances over at the time on his bedside table and notices it's still early enough for him to not feel guilty about rolling over for another hour, but he knows he won't sleep. Once he's woken up properly, that's it.

So instead he sits up, swings his legs off the bed and stands. He stretches out, arches his arms over his head and feels the bones crack and grind together, rolls his neck and winces at the cricks in it.

It's only after leaving his room, making towards the bathroom, that he really remembers Blaine, curled up beneath warm blankets and swaddled in sleep, so very touchabley close, his breathing regular and deep, tugging Kurt closer. Kurt hesitates, just for a moment, and tries to find among the tangled covers and mountains of cushions and pillows the faintest outline of a body. It takes him longer than he'd believe, but eventually his eyes settle on the curled crook of three fingers peeking, hidden, from beneath the top blanket.

And he just can't resist. Not after so many days apart, unable to really talk how he would like to, let alone touch and kiss and press against Blaine, feel the drum of his pulse beneath his fingertips and hear the sweet, sinful sigh of his name on Blaine's lips.

So he crosses the space in three quick strides, brazenly tugs his thin t-shirt over his head, doesn't think about the implications but just the hot, burning press of Blaine's body against his own, letting it fall silently to the floor before he tugs on his loose pyjama pants, stepping out of them as he reaches the edge of the sofa-bed, leaving in his wake a trail of forgotten clothes. He stands, now naked but for tight, charcoal grey boxers, and stares down for a moment. He watches the rise and fall of the blankets beneath which Blaine's lies, just fingers poking out from where he's buried, no doubt burningly hot. And Kurt can't hold in his smile.

After a moment of just watching he gently peels back the covers and kneels onto the bed, tentatively, slow enough for Blaine to protest if he wants to. But when there is no reaction but for a gentle, barely-there shiver, Kurt begins to lie down, forcing his bare legs into the warmth created by Blaine's body. Blaine turns then, slowly, almost confused, pushing the covers from his face to peer over his shoulder, revealing a small, crinkled half-smile before he blinks his eyes back closed, laying his head down again.

Kurt sinks into the mattress, curled on his side, stretches a searching arm out. He tugs Blaine back, swelteringly hot and heavenly soft among the blankets, towards his chest.

Blaine shifts willingly, shuffling until they're pressed tight together, back to chest right down the long length of their bodies, Blaine's knees crooked to fit Kurt's, his ass pressed, unthinkingly, back into the angle of Kurt's crotch as he sinks, arcs his spine on a stretch, and falls into the cage of Kurt's body.

"Hey," Blaine says, voice gruff with sleep, lacing his hand with Kurt's when he winds his arm tight around Blaine's waist, stringing kisses together over the slope of his neck.

"Hey," Kurt replies, exhales into Blaine's hair and breaths him in as he feels the butterfly flutter of dry lips over the back of his knuckles before Blaine tightens their laced hands and tugs, until Kurt is holding him impossibly tight, hand over the slow thump of his heart.

Eventually though, this isn't enough.

Blaine rolls until they're face to face, smiles into the space between them as Kurt spreads his palm down his side, fingers curling almost possessively over Blaine's hip, thumb rubbing over the bone.

"Hey," Blaine repeats, eyes bleary and blinking, face pink and eyes wild, hair knotty and tangled, so breathtakingly gorgeous.

Kurt smiles at him a bit dopily, before slipping forward an inch to steal a dry kiss from his lips. As he pulls back he watches the shadows of Blaine's eyelashes against his cheeks, the way they flutter and change shape as he smiles.

Blaine inches forward more, hand reaching out to rest on Kurt's waist, withdrawing slightly at the feel of soft, bare skin beneath his palm. "Are you-" Blaine pauses, looking down between their bodies, everything shrouded in darkness, "are you naked?" he asks, glancing up, eyes comically wide.

Kurt shakes his head, slinks closer, "not quite," he smiles, takes Blaine's hand and slides it over his body, from the ladder of his ribs to the angle of his hip bone, jutting from his boxers. "Is that okay?" he asks, pressing so close to Blaine that their noses touch, freeing his hand to wind it gently up the side of his body, around his shoulder, over the knot of bone at the top of his spine before dragging it up, through his hair, not once taking his eyes off the other boys.

"Yeah I- yeah," Blaine grins, "that's gr-fine," he says, closing the final few inches between them, pressing his icy feet between Kurt's ankles, knee's knocking as their hips almost slot together, their chests touching with each breath.

Silence stretches comfortable and secure around them, both caught in the cocoon of Blaine's bed and their touching bodies, the rhythm and warmth of their breathing the only disturbances as Kurt watches Blaine's eyes flutter once, twice, three times, before settling serenely closed.

"Are you okay?" Kurt eventually whispers after an indeterminable number of minutes.

"Huh?" Blaine mumbles against Kurt's neck from where he's slipped even closer.

"Are you alright? You seem a bit… drowsy," Kurt says, searching for the right word.

"Mmm," Blaine hums, "just tired," he says, stifling a yawn into Kurt's skin.

"You haven't been out of bed yet," Kurt laughs, moving the arm he's lying on to curl beneath Blaine's head, cradling him to his chest while his other hand slips from his neck to wind gently over his waist.

Blaine jolts instantly away from his touch, jumping forward against Kurt's body and tensing beneath his hands.

"I- sorry," Kurt quickly apologises, having completely forgotten, as usual, Blaine's self-consciousness. He runs his hand back around to the front of Blaine's body, trailing down to rest lightly on his hip.

"No, I- I'm sorry," Blaine rushes to say, "it's just… your hand- and I just- god, you must think I'm such a child," he rambles, moving to roll away, out of Kurt's grasp.

"Hey, no!" Kurt rolls with him, keeps one hand on his hip, the other at the back of his head, determined to keep him close. "I don't think that at all," Kurt assures him, "I promise," he says, laughing lightly when Blaine sends him a disbelieving look. "Seriously, I don't think you're a child, I would not be lying here with you if I thought you were," he tries to joke, earning a weak smile.

He watches Blaine stare at the ceiling for a moment, blinking, breathing, no doubt embarrassed. "I think you're beautiful," he finally admits when Blaine continues to look upset.

Blaine turns to him slowly, still close, but not close enough. "I'm not," he eventually says, turning to stare back up at the ceiling, and Kurt feels his heart almost break. Because it's obvious he's not digging for compliments or trying to sound modest, he genuinely believes that he's not anything worth looking at.

"Blaine," Kurt breaths, shuffles closer and leans up on his elbow, looking down at Blaine beneath him, all messy hair and sad eyes. "I'm not lying when I say I think you're beautiful," he tries to explain, leans down to kiss over the parts of Blaine's shoulder not covered by his top, hoping to say more in kisses than he ever could in words.

Kurt presses a little closer and settles into the space between Blaine's outstretched arm and his body, rests his cheek on his chest and absently trails patterns over his sternum, settling a leg over Blaine's and waits for him to respond, if he's going to.

Eventually he rolls back onto his side, facing Kurt. He smiles a little, both scared and apologetic at once before glancing down into the darkness between their bodies. He shuffles closer then, until he rests warm and solid and so very soft against Kurt's bare skin again.

Kurt waits, and watches Blaine reach a hand out, watches him press his index finger to the bones at the top of Kurt's shoulder before tracing downwards, over muscles and the winding rivers of slightly protruding veins to rest, hand splayed, against Kurt's, who turns his palm over and allows Blaine to slot their fingers together.

"You can, if you want," Blaine breaths after a moment into the hollow of Kurt's throat. "I mean…" he trails off with a sigh, words heavy on his tongue before he takes their joint hands and slides them slowly up his body, over the fabric of his thin undershirt to rest, splayed, on the left side of his waist.

"Blaine," Kurt begins, nervous, knows how self conscious Blaine is of this.

"It's fine," Blaine assures him with a kiss, squeezes where his hand is still clasping Kurt's before winding it further around his back, letting Kurt drape his arm fully around him before he lets go and tucks his arms into the space between their chests, strokes a shaking finger over Kurt's collarbones.

Kurt splays his hand gently over Blaine's back, protective almost, and unintentionally feels beneath the thin fabric the gnarled twist of a scar, gashed into Blaine's slim, tiny frame. And just the thought of someone being able to do that to Blaine, Blaine with his big, earnest eyes, easy smiles, the way he hums under his breath and blushes so easily, the way he feels in Kurt's arms, soft and strong all at once, and the gentle thump of his heart, beating so resiliently, so full of love. How anyone could do that to _anyone, _shocks Kurt, but how they could do it to _Blaine, _makes him feel physically sick.

He doesn't say anything though, just nuzzles closer, moves his hand up to spread between Blaine shoulder blades, pulls him even closer to his chest until Kurt feels the tickle of Blaine's breath against his bare skin, the tenseness in his muscles easing second by second as he just breaths and relaxes into Kurt.

Kurt wants to tell Blaine he's beautiful again. Wants to roll him onto his back, strip his clothes from his body. Kiss over every inch of his skin, from his icy feet pressed against Kurt's, right up to his face, pressed into Kurt's chest. He wants to roll him over and swathe kisses down the road of his spine, veer off at the crossroad of his scar and follow it, around to his ribs. He wants to count them, one by one, with his lips and tongue, to lick up to his nipples and then his throat, jaw, lips, and to just keep kissing until Blaine believes every word Kurt says.

But he can't, not until Blaine is wholly and completely comfortable with being entirely naked with Kurt, and that's not something Kurt would ever force. So instead, after lying tangled in silence and soft touches for who knows how long, Kurt asks why Blaine's tired, veering the conversation back to where they'd left off.

Blaine shrugs against him and places kisses against the hollow of Kurt's throat, mumbling, "nightmares," in between them as his hand skims and strokes silk-soft down the inward curve of Kurt's spine, over and over.

"Nightmares?" Kurt repeats, frowning.

Blaine just shrugs again, skims his hand to the base of Kurt's back, slips the tips of his fingers into his boxers, lips working harder up Kurt's neck.

"Blaine, st-" Kurt can't help the laugh which escapes his throat as Blaine's lips tickle against his skin, continuing to cover him in kisses, fingers creeping further into his boxers. "No- Blaine, come on, talk to me, stop distracting me," he says through another laugh.

"I like distracting," Blaine mutters, not meeting Kurt's eye.

"We've got plenty of time for distractions," Kurt smiles. "What're you having nightmares about?" he asks, dipping his head so that they're face to face, watching Blaine blink away, looking down and then back up before he speaks.

"I dunno, just- just stuff," he shrugs again.

"Blaine I-" Kurt begins before he sighs, mind jolting back to his and Cooper's conversation only days ago. About whether Blaine is happy.

This is evidence that no, he's not entirely happy. And Kurt's stomach sinks with the realisation.

So Kurt waits, and thinks.

He wants to say, _I know how you feel, _because he's sure he could relate to _some_ degree. But he also knows that that's the last thing he wanted to hear when he was Blaine's age. So instead he pauses, waits for Blaine to look at him, leans forward and kisses him gently. "I'm not going to force you to tell me," he says, "but I'm more than willing to listen if you do want to," he says, and it's an invitation as much as a shoulder to lean on.

Because, Kurt realises suddenly, he _wants _Blaine to come and talk to him if he needs to. He wants Blaine to feel comfortable enough to bring his problems to Kurt, to talk through his issues, his fears, his nightmares. He _wants_, he realises, possibly stupidly, to be everything Cooper is obviously unable to be, to be the person Blaine trusts most in the world. And if that isn't a kick in the gut he doesn't know what it.

But he's distracted from this thought by Blaine staring up at him for a moment, eyes wide and sad, golden-green and unfathomable. "Okay," he eventually says, "thank you," he finishes with a smile and a tender, barely there kiss against Kurt's neck, pale against his pink lips.

"So, d'you- d'you want to talk about… whatever it is?" Kurt asks, wanting to hear and help but not wanting to push, tracing nonsensical patterns into the exposed skin at the base of Blaine's spine.

Blaine shakes his head and drops his eyes again, slinking as close as possible to avoid Kurt's stare, pressing his face into his neck and just breathing to calm himself down.

"Okay, that's fine," Kurt assures him, ignores the way his stomach drops with disappointment while stroking Blaine's hair back from his face.

Eventually Kurt rolls onto his back as Blaine presses impossibly closer, effectively pushing Kurt over as he mumbles "thank you," into his collarbones and settles half on top of Kurt.

Kurt's arm is a cradle around his shoulders; Blaine's face pressing against Kurt's bare chest, one leg flung over Kurt's, their hip bones knocking as they settle into the shape of one another. Blaine hums in pleasure, snuggles closer, closes his eyes and winds an arm up Kurt's chest, fingers curled slightly over his broad shoulder, falling into the hold of his body and allowing sleep to drag him easily, effortlessly, unknowingly under.

Blaine sleeps for a while, his body cushioned by Kurt's, face crushed against his chest, breath tickling Kurt's skin. And Kurt lets him, winds his arms around him and doesn't care that the only real time they've had together in almost a week is spent sleeping. Because Blaine needs this, needs the warmth of another body to know he isn't alone, to feel the press of someone protectively wrapped around him.

When Blaine eventually comes around, body pleasantly drowsy and eyes gritty with sleep, he's momentarily confused, unable to remember falling asleep.

Propping himself up on one elbow he blinks his eyes open, smiling sleep-slow at Kurt beneath him, "how long've I been…" his speech peters out as he yawns, pressing his face into Kurt's chest.

"An hour? Not long," Kurt replies, craning his head back to check the clock on the far wall, biting his lip to hold back his smile at just how adorable Blaine looks after just waking up.

"Mmm, sorry," Blaine hums as he burrows further beneath the blankets, pressing flush against Kurt as he stretches, body unfurling gently beneath Kurt's hands, eye scrunched shut, missing the smile which spreads over Kurt's face as he watches, softness in his eyes, and who can blame him for not resisting?

"D'you need some help waking up?" Kurt asks, tugging Blaine's hair from his face and rolling until he's hovering over the younger boy, who blinks up, sleepily sweet and completely gorgeous.

"What did you have in mind?" Blaine flirts back, stretching out on his back, arms arching behind his head as Kurt smiles devilishly down.

"Mmm," Kurt hums, eyes dropping over the boy's body, stretched out and sleep-hot beneath him, a couple of inches of exposed, curved stomach, the beginning of a happy trail leading beneath his pyjama pants, stretched tight between his sinfully narrow hips. "I can think of a few things…"

/

They meet Cooper around midday, looking utterly lost in the shirt section of Saks, hair finger-combed from his pale face.

"Oh thank god," he groans when he sees them approaching, striding over and pulling Kurt into a tight, crushing hug, mumbling _thankyouthankyouthankyou _over and over again into his hair.

Kurt catches Blaine's eye over Cooper's shoulder and stifles his laughter at the shocked expression on Blaine's face, before he catches Kurt's looking and grins back.

"Okay Coop," Kurt laughs again, strokes awkwardly at Cooper's back from where his arms are trapped at his sides, "that's enough, nice to see you too," he wriggles slightly, finally getting Cooper to release him. "How was breakfast? Find out anything that'll help us?" Kurt asks, straightening his clothes from where they'd been wrinkled.

"I actually think this dinner is going to kill me," Cooper admits straight faced, fear in his eyes.

"That bad?" Blaine asks, raising his eyebrows.

"You have no idea," Cooper responds, pulls his little brother into a quick hug, keeping his arm around Blaine's considerably smaller shoulder, tucked into the space beneath his arm, tilting to rest his head against Blaine's, who just frowns up at him.

Kurt rolls his eyes at Cooper's dramatics but humours him nonetheless, allowing him to ramble on at high speed as Kurt sets to work examining shirts, ties, cufflinks, shoes, and even suits at one point, until Cooper settles him with a terrified expression.

"I can't afford a new suit!" he almost shouts, batting Kurt's hand away from where he's skimming the collar of a beautifully tailored grey suit.

"I know!" Kurt replies, "I'm just admiring them," he says, turning enamoured to stare at the suits on display.

"Well can you admire them after my midlife crisis?" Cooper shuffles him onwards, past the suits to continue shopping, glaring at Blaine who quickly stops laughing behind them, biting his lip to stop himself.

Because it's just so funny, watching Cooper spiral further and further into almost hysterical panic as Kurt rolls his eyes and holds shirts up to his body, switching ties around and almost shouting at Cooper when he wont stop fidgeting.

"But which suit am I going to wear? Because that shirt's too dark for my black one and the navy one needs dry cleaning and-"

"Oh my god," Kurt swings around swiftly and takes hold of his shoulders, "breath," he demands, eyes flicking between Cooper's, waiting until he takes a deep breath and relaxes, shoulders falling and eyes softening. "Now… have you completely forgotten about the suit your dad bought you for your 21st?" Kurt asks, smiling and watching as Cooper's face morphs from confusion to the biggest, dopiest smile.

"You're a genius," he sighs through his grin.

"I know," Kurt replies, smiling back, patting him swiftly on the shoulder before returning to the shirts in front of them, rolling his eyes fondly at Blaine, who thinks he could watch Kurt flit around the store all day.

/

Not long later Cooper is finally calm, a new shirt, tie and shoes in his arms as he tiredly follows Blaine and Kurt around the menswear department, seemingly content to just fall onto nearby seats, occasionally commenting on an item of clothing, but mostly mentally preparing himself for his upcoming dinner.

Blaine's in heaven though, shrugging on jackets and touching the soft fabrics of out-of-his-price-range polos and jumpers and the rough, denimy scratch of unworn jeans.

"Try it on," Kurt says smiling down at Blaine as he trails his fingers along the collar of a particularly nice blazer.

"Nahh," Blaine looks up, "I can't afford it," he shrugs, smiles sweetly, self-deprecatingly back at Kurt before turning away.

"Your parents gave you money for this trip right?" Kurt asks quickly.

"Well yeah, but, that's for food and things, not for designer blazers," Blaine laughs then, smiles at Kurt over his shoulder before wandering further away, admiring the rails of clothes.

But then there is a hand, warm and familiar wrapped gently around his wrist. He turns and is greeted by Kurt, blazer in hand as he smiles. "I'll buy you it, for your birthday," he says, as if he buys Blaine expensive clothes all the time.

"Er, no. You won't," Blaine tries to laugh, tugs his hand out of Kurt's grasp and takes a small step back, "it's like, 300 dollars, you're not spending that on me," he laughs at the ridiculous suggestion, "you're not spending _anything _on me," he adds, shaking his head as Kurt rolls his eyes.

"It's actually…" Kurt checks the price tag, "295 dollars, and come on, it's your birthday," he insists pressing the blazer into Blaine's chest with a smile. "Just try it on."

"Nope. Nu-uh," Blaine shakes his head, refuses to take the blazer, walking away backwards.

"Blaine," Kurt whines, though he's smiling, stepping forward to follow him, "I just want you to try it on."

"Just try it on Blaine, he won't shut up, trust me," Cooper pipes up from where he's sat near the changing room, watching the exchange with a tired smile.

Blaine frowns at him, and back at Kurt who's smiling widely, far too pleased with himself, before snatching the blazer from his hands. "Fine," he huffs, beginning to unbutton his cardigan.

"Wait!" Kurt says, dashing away for a moment before returning, a pair of dark jeans and a gorgeous grey shirt in hand, "with these," he presses them into Blaine's hands and bites his lip at the indignant, verging on pissed-off expression on Blaine's face.

"You're ridiculous," Blaine says before turning and crossing to the changing rooms, smiling as nicely as possible at the assistant in the doorway before entering one of the small rooms, muttering under his breath.

He emerges a matter of minutes later, jeans wrapped sinfully tight around his legs, so tight he can't help but wonder if Kurt purposely got a size too small for him, and the blazer done up over the tight shirt, stretched over his shoulders, dipped in at his narrow waist.

He walks out, feeling utterly absurd, coughs to get Cooper and Kurt's attention before doing a lazy twirl, raising his eyebrows in a signature 'happy?' look, before dropping his arms down at his sides.

"Holy shit," Kurt breaths almost silently, "your shoulder look… _really _good," he says, eyes raking critically over the rest of Blaine, hard thighs and calves, the inward curve of his waist, tiny hips, all accentuated by his shoulders, broad and strong beneath the dark fabric.

He only realises his words, and the fact that he's blatantly gawping, when he sees the shocked, though admittedly pleased, smile which curls Blaine's lips, the blush which creeps over his cheeks. And then he sees out of the corner of his eye Cooper's head tilt to face him, enquiring when Kurt meets his eye.

"What? Am I not allowed to say your brother has nice shoulders?" Kurt asks, much more defensive than wholly necessary, ignoring where he can see Blaine is biting his lip before retreating quickly back to change.

Cooper just stares at him for a second before shrugging, apparently too exhausted to question it as he stands from his chair and stretches. "I need to pee," he announces, dropping his things onto his empty seat before ambling lazily away.

Kurt watches him go before glancing back at the changing rooms, weighing his options, before grabbing half a dozen shirts at random from nearby racks and entering the changing rooms. "I'm just taking these to my friend," he explains to the girl working in there, "could you keep an eye on our things on that chair?" he asks, nodding over at Cooper's stuff. She nods and points Kurt towards Blaine's door.

He thanks her and rushes over, thankful that it's one of the furthest away ones and that there are few other people in there, before knocking swiftly on the door. "Hey, it's me, open up," he says as quietly and urgently as possible.

"Kurt?" comes the delayed reply, followed by the almost silent slot of a lock being undone.

Kurt slides in quickly, shirts grasped in one hand, crumpled in his grip, forgotten in his haste as he steps forward, presses Blaine back into the wall of the small, darkly decorated room instantly, and watches his eyes widen, startled and confused, turned on and scared all at once before Kurt reaches out, slides the lock back into place.

"Hey," Kurt smiles down at him devilishly, dropping the shirts onto the leather bench at the side before crowding up closer to Blaine, pressing him harder against the wall, slotting their bodies together and sliding his hands along Blaine's sides, beneath the fabric of the blazer.

"Hi," Blaine replies, breathless already as he twines his hands up, knots them in Kurt's hair, arcs his back against the wall, into Kurt's touch as he blinks up, licks his parted lips and waits, desperately, for Kurt to do something.

But Kurt just grins down at him, watches his pupils dilate even more in the dimly lit room as he skims his hands in worship down Blaine's sides, over his hips, around to grasp the firm, round globes of his ass and squeeze, revelling in his surprised little yelp, the forward jolt of his narrow hips.

"Where's-" Blaine begins, but then suddenly Kurt's lips are on his, warm and wet, sliding easily, effortlessly together as he glides a hot, wanting hand beneath the already rucked fabric of Blaine's shirt, over the warm curve of his stomach, the scratch of barely there hairs against his palm as his hand continues around, presses hard to the base of Blaine's spine and arcs him forward, pressed half-hard against Kurt's thigh and whimpering into his mouth.

Kurt pulls back suddenly, shushes him with a finger to his parted, pink lips before grinning slowly, pressing a last, linger kiss to his lips before moving along to the joint of his jaw, down the slope of his neck, over his collar bones, the secret hollow of his throat, hearing Blaine's breath hitch above him.

"You need to stay quiet Blaine," Kurt slinks up and whispers hot into his ear, sucks the lobe between his sharp teeth momentarily as he moves one hand forward to cup the growing bulge in Blaine's pants, swallowing Blaine low moan into his own mouth. He pulls back with a warning glance and watches, heart racing, as Blaine sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and nods once, minutely, slumping his head back silently against the wall when Kurt squeezes his cock gently, just to check.

"Good," Kurt grins, flicks open the boys fly as he speaks, "Cooper's gone toilet, but I know this store and can -ah- guarantee you he'll get lost," he breaths against Blaine's lips, finally slinking his hand down the front of his boxers, grazing his fingers over Blaine's now completely hard cock before wrapping them firmly, tightly around him, ripping a choked moan from his lips as his eyelashes flutter beautifully in the orange light.

Kurt smirks at him before attaching his lips to his neck, scraping his teeth over his humming pulse, soothing the skin with his tongue as he pumps Blaine fast and rhythmless. It's too dry and too quick and perfect as with his free hand he pushes the unbought jeans down to Blaine's ankles, because he really doesn't want him to get come on jeans he doesn't even own.

Eventually he has no choice but to seal his lips over Blaine's, stifling his breathy _ah ah ah_'s with his own lips, swallowing them down as Blaine's hands grip and grasp through his hair, his body bucking irregularly forward into Kurt's hand as he speeds up, tightens his grip, twists on the upstroke and without warning grabs Blaine's ass with his free hand, kneading the flesh as he presses his own body forward.

Blaine pulls back quickly, lips detaching from Kurt's with a wet smack, head thumping the wall, eyes rolling back, falling closed, a long breath being sucked between his bitten, delicious lips.

"Shit," Kurt curses, automatically falling to his knees, onto the thankfully carpeted floor, licking his lips momentarily, simultaneously tugging Blaine's boxers down before sinking hot and tight over Blaine's dick, hearing the boy groan too-loud above him as his hands settle in Kurt's hair, nails sharp and dragging. And it only takes a few more seconds, a few well swirled licks and tight sucks to cleave Blaine's orgasm out of him, spilling down Kurt's throat, who just closes his eyes, ignores the throbbing in his own pants and takes it.

Kurt pulls back and looks up when Blaine's finished coming, licking his lips unthinkingly and catches Blaine staring, face flushed with heat, chest heaving with each deep, rough breath and eyes blown so impossibly, unfathomably wide.

Kurt stands up slowly in front of him, drags his boxers back up his thighs and over his cock before tucking a stray, errand curl behind his ear, easing it down into the considerably looser gel and leans forward, kisses him surprisingly sensitively, winds his arms around the boys body and feels him melt easily into Kurt's embrace.

"Fuck," Blaine mumbles in between soft, savouring kisses, feeling Kurt smile in return.

And then his phone rings, loud and blaring, unignorable as he pulls back, shoots Kurt an apologetic glance before grabbing his phone from where it rests on the floor, Cooper's number flashing up momentarily before it stop ringing all together.

"Blaine!" a familiar voice then calls, followed by equally familiar footfalls.

"Shit!" Blaine whispers, looks up at Kurt who looks equally terrified, before he kicks off the unbought jeans, grabs his own, stumbles slightly as he pulls them on and only feels vaguely ridiculous. Kurt fixes his, admittedly ruined, hair in the mirror while Blaine buttons his fly, shrugs off the blazer and with shaking fingers hands it back on it's hanger.

"Blaine?" Cooper repeats, considerably closer.

"Yeah," Blaine calls back, voice squawkily high pitched.

He catches Kurt's eye in the mirror and glares at him when Kurt is just as frozen as him.

"Down here," he calls before inching the door open, poking his head out to see Cooper coming towards him.

"Hey," he greets, "d'you know where Kurt's gone? He left my stuff outside."

"Errr…" Blaine trails off, can feel his heart pounding against his chest and almost thinks he's going to puke with fear, when all of a sudden Kurt's speaks behind him.

"I'm in here Coop," Kurt says calmly, as if he hadn't had Blaine's cock down his throat a matter of second ago.

"Are you going to let me in then Blaine?" Cooper asks when Blaine keeps the door mostly shut but for his own head poking out.

"Er, yeah, course," he stutters and steps aside, ignores Cooper's eye roll and closes the door behind them before turning. And oh god, is this really happening? The three of them are crowded into a changing room, Blaine's still flushed from coming barely a minute previously and Kurt's hair looks, well, there's no other word for it than thoroughly fucked.

Cooper's staring at Kurt, as if he's going to ask what the hell he's doing in a changing room with his little brother, when Kurt catches his eye from where he's holding two shirts up to Blaine's not-yet-bought blazer.

"What?" he asks when Cooper continues to stare.

But Cooper just averts his eyes to the shirts in his hands, glances between the two briefly before cocking his head. "I like the maroon one," he finally says, and both Kurt and Blaine silently let the breath they were both holding, relaxing considerably.

"Me too," Kurt says, smiles as best he can while his heart is till thumping a mile a minute, before placing the two shirts in his hands back onto the bench with the others. "I'll wait for your guys outside," he then says, because he really does not need to be in an enclosed space with them both right now.

As he crosses the small room Blaine catches his eye and smiles a little, turned up one side, sad on the other, and Kurt realises in that moment that he wants nothing more than to step forward and curl his arms around Blaine and just breath him in, that it's not actually the sex he misses when he's not around Blaine. It's just _Blaine. _His little shrugs and big eyes, long lashes, wild hair and broad, strong hands, the loud, gratifying ring of his laughter and, more than anything, the way his body fits so effortlessly, easily against Kurt's.

Kurt waits outside the changing rooms, heart thundering as he pretends to browse the t-shirt nearby until he hears Cooper shout him over. He crosses to them and is pleased to see Blaine holding the blazer.

"You're getting it?" he asks with a smile.

"Uh huh," Blaine nods as they head over to the cashier, smiles up at Kurt sweetly, and not for the first time Kurt feels as if the ground has been pulled from beneath his feet.

* * *

**A/N: How has this reached 18 chapters? I mean really? I was not expecting it to get this long :/ Thank you though to everyone who's reading because you're all lovely little cupcakes and, well, at least I've not wrote 18 chapters for no one right? :)**


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